


What one man gains, another has lost: the Maker has a sense of humour

by SassySeer



Series: Loghain Mac Tir [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Creative License, Drama, F/M, Orlais (Dragon Age), Other, Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 49,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySeer/pseuds/SassySeer
Summary: Fate and circumstance  put Loghain in Orlais once more. He will get caught in the Game, but also find an unlikely ally.Post-Trespasser. Sequel to "In Peace, Vigilance" (although can be standalone, I guess). It's an old work - the second fanfic I've ever written. Publishing now because I guess it should be uploaded before DA4. Also, I had too much fun writing this one.
Relationships: Loghain Mac Tir/Female Trevelyan, Loghain Mac Tir/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Loghain Mac Tir [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706800
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Two years of peace

It had been two years since they had settled in the farm, in a secluded point on the fertile fields that surrounded the city-state of Ansburg. They led a simple and stoic life, but they were happy. It's not too hard to explain that, once free of the taint, they let go all the remorse and petty burdens they had been carrying inside each of them all along. Loghain felt that he was his own person again, not the stuff of fairy-tales; not a hero, not a villain. Marcia came to terms with her past and her faith, and freed herself of any trace of shame. They married, under a false name, of course. To everyone else, they were simply Edmund and Aida Oakes. For two years, even if they were living in a constant lie to the world, they managed to be their true selves.  


News that the Inquisition had been disbanded reached Loghain when he was at the market. It wasn’t the city market, though. They tried to avoid the city, just in case someone might recognize them. It was a rural one, in a crossroads out in the countryside. Local farmers and some traders would assemble together one day, each week. It wasn’t exactly sophisticated, but it was enough for their needs. Loghain overheard as the tinker told it to the alchemist. He silently finished getting all the supplies on his list, jumped on his horse and ran to the farm as fast as he could. He found Marcia chopping wood on the back of the farm. She was wearing some simple leather trousers and a cotton shirt. It reminded him of the first time he kissed her, that misty day under the oak tree, in the woods of the Arling of Amaranthine. She caught him looking, and smiled.

“Admiring the view?”

“Always” he replied, smirking. “But there’s something I need to tell you”

“Anything wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing to worry about. The Inquisition has been disbanded”

“Disbanded?”

“Yes. There was an Exalted Council held at Halamshiral even, at the instance of Orlais and Ferelden. Orlais and Ferelden, can you imagine? Preposterous! I heard that Arl Teagan represented Ferelden in it. After negotiating for days, apparently your most-holy brother has decided that it’s time for retirement. He’s going back to Ostwick, with his Tevinter man”

Marcia didn't say anything for a while. She frowned slightly, and put the axe away.

“Well, we are in no position to judge him for stepping down” she eventually murmured. “And good for him. I really hope he’s happy”

“Look at you, acting all mature, not even a trace of fraternal bitterness” He was teasing, of course.  


“Hey, I’ll still kick his ass if I feel he deserves it. Just put us in the same Opera House and wait for it” she said, and laughed.

Loghain hugged her and held her close.

“What? What do you want?” she asked, still giggling.

“Nothing” he said. He was just enjoying her closeness.

“Are you sure?”

“Very tempting, little minx, but someone has to cook dinner, and that someone would be me”

“Later, then?”

“Who knows?”

“Playing hard to get huh? All right” she said. “I hope you brought goat cheese?”

“I did”

“I love you”

“Of course you do” he said. “How could you deal with me otherwise?”

That night, while eating at the table, they were attacked. It was a band of bandit raiders and just as the local market, they weren't exactly _sophisticated_. Of course, they didn’t know what they were stepping into. Loghain and Marcia wouldn’t be Grey Wardens anymore, but they still trained frequently and were more than ready for a fight. On top of that, there was Marcia’s magic, which also happened to be the reason why they couldn’t let any of them leave alive, even when they begged for mercy. Rumors of apostates bring questions, Templars, attention. They looted the bodies and buried their remains in the forest that bordered their farm. Word of a couple of seemingly normal farmers that single-handedly dealt with four vicious raiders would bring the kind of attention they didn’t need either. It took them a while. The next step was cleaning the house and removing any evidence of a violent confrontation. Once washed and changed, they finally rested on the bed. Marcia turned to him.

“We did what we had to do” she said. It was more of a question than a declaration.

He pulled her towards him and she responded by curling up towards him. 

“We did what we had to do” he reassured her, and then kissed her goodnight.

Some days later, some of the local peasants came to the farm. They asked for him. There was a growing concern about the bandit raids - attacks were getting bolder, and more frequent. They believed they had a base on the hills nearby. 

“Why come to me?” Loghain asked.

“Mister Oakes, you used to be a guardsman. You can help us. We are gathering all able men to storm their headquarters, but we require a leader. You sure can do that”

That was his cover story. He used to be a guardsman, married a marcher woman, retired there. It was a quaint and effective. Now it had come back to bite him in the ass. Loghain sighed and tried to convince them that the wisest course of action was to alert the authorities at the City of Ansburg. They wouldn’t. It was their crops, and their wives, and their children. It was also their revenge. Still skeptical, he accepted. 

For weeks, he gathered information to plan an attack and gave all the training he could to the farmers, workers and hunters that had volunteered. They made shields out of wood, crafted rudimentary armor and sharpened their woodcutting axes and working knives. If Loghain knew about anything, was to turn farmers into fighters. He felt like he was back at the Fereldan Rebellion days. When the time came, Marcia insisted on going with him, but he wouldn’t allow her. Loghain knew that he wasn’t his superior and couldn’t give her orders any longer; but he was adamant on that. What if she was forced to use magic to defend herself and the others saw it? She was an apostate. They would take her away from him. She understood, but complained anyway. 

The attack on the bandit stronghold was a success. They took them by surprise and executed the assault just as Loghain had planned. The hunters proved especially useful. There were some injured, but none of the men were dead. It was a huge victory, and celebrations in his honor soon followed. He would have preferred if they wouldn’t, but the villagers were obstinate. Marcia even put on a modest dress and played the part of the regular wife. There was food and music and dances, but they excused themselves and left early. They much preferred to be home- warm, safe and alone.  



	2. That's fame for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at names. Names for characters and titles for works will be the bane of my existence.

Not long after the assault on the bandit’s lair, a messenger brought a dispatch for him. Count Cedric Lorryn, cordially invited Mister Edmund Oaks and his wife to a meeting at his state. Count Lorryn was the lord of these lands.

“Mister Edmund Oaks and _his wife_!” she exclaimed “I don’t even have a right to be mentioned individually!”

“Come on Marcia. It’s just a manner of speaking”

“Well, it is rude. I won’t go; you go and tell him that you don’t know anyone by the name of _His Wife_ ”

“I see you feel very strongly about that, and I understand why” he said. He took her hands and kissed them “But I need you with me there. Me, in a social situation involving nobility; picture that. I would be lost without you”

Her expression softened. 

“Yes, you would”

The state was stunning, but not over-the-top. Loghain marveled at the lush gardens, with all kinds of flowers and plants. They went through them to access the castle. The stone was grey, and old. Once inside, they were brought to the dining hall. The Count was waiting for them there. 

“Ah, the man everyone in the lands is talking about. Welcome. I am Count Cedric Lorryn. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. And that must be your spouse”

“Yes, my lord. This is Aida, my dear wife”

The Count observed her closely, with great interest.

“A charming name, for a charming young woman” 

Loghain could hear Marcia making a disgusted noise in her mind. Even he made a disgusted noise in his thoughts. The Count continued talking. Because that’s what nobles did. Talk. They loved hearing themselves.   


“You must be wondering why I invited you here. It was out of curiosity. You are Fereldan. Still you helped my people, readied them for battle and lead them safely to victory against a dangerous band of raiders”

Well, that should have been your work, not mine, Loghain thought. But he knew better than to say those words aloud.

“With all due respect, I might be Fereldan, but these lands are now my home as much as they are theirs”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise. You bought that farm, the solitary one next to the forest, a couple of years ago… You paid a lot of money for it. More than it was worth" More smiles from the count. "One would think that Fereldan guardsmen make a lot of coin”

“It was my wife’s money, actually. She inherited it. A family of traders”

“I see” said the Count “Forgive me. This looks more like an interrogation than anything else. Further from my purpose; but, you see, you are quite the curiosity to me, mister Oakes. At any rate, I called you here to personally thank you for what you have done. I was away at that time, with most of my men, lending a hand to the last of the relief efforts after the dissolution of the Inquisition…"

So what did the count want for that? A medal? Everyone knew that a lot of nobles lent a hand to the Inquisition's relief efforts just so they could brag about it. Or get a favor returned. Or both. Usually both.

"I regret that I wasn’t here to address the bandit issue myself" Cedric continued "Thanks to you, the situation is pacified. If there’s anything, anything at all you need, I would be happy to facilitate it to you”

Loghain was too old for that shit of a bait, so he didn't bite.

“Thank you, my lord; but there’s no need for that”

“Are you sure?” the Count insisted.

“Your lordship is very gracious, but we really don’t require anything”

Cedric turned to Marcia, who was apparently absent-minded, looking at the paintings that decorated the walls. 

“Perhaps your wife is of a different mind in this matter?”

“I am always of the same mind as my husband” she replied, candidly.

Loghain had to hold his laughter with that one. She had some nerve. 

“Ah, not only beautiful, but virtuous and devout to her man” 

Loghain failed to see how a supposedly blind obedience was a virtue, but said nothing.

“Aida, you were admiring the art. Do you enjoy such things?”

Marcia seemed to doubt.

“I do, my lord. May I say that the D’Auberive is just exquisite?”

Cedric looked at her, surprised and pleased at the same time.

“You have quite the refined taste. Just tell me, how come of a farmer’s wife knows about that”

Marcia looked a bit offended by the question. She was probably much more than she showed, though.

“My family, my lord. We were of humble origin, but our dealings allowed us to access many things, and we’ve always enjoyed all the culture we could have access to. Surely Reynerius D’Auberive is an artist known enough for me to be able to recognize”

“Your family sounds like an excellent one. Where are they now?”

“They are dead, my lord. One of those blasted tears in the sky. Demons…”

“I am so sorry to hear it and to have brought that up. Maybe you would like to see the rest of my collection?”

Marcia turned to Loghain.

“Of course the invitation extends to your husband, my dear”

“In that case, I would have no objections” she replied, cautiously.

The Count seemed delighted, and guided them deeper into the castle. Marcia kept close to Loghain, and walked with her hand on his. There were some minor paintings on the walls of the hallways, but that couldn’t be all. Eventually, they arrived at a different chamber.

“This is my personal study. My favorite pieces are here”

It was a large room. They examined the paintings one by one. Suddenly, Marcia tightened her grip on Loghain’s hand. She silently and stealthily draw his attention towards a single piece. It was a portrait. Against a black background, a young lady dressed in green velvet and adorned with jewelry innocently turned her gaze away from the viewers. Her shoulders were shown naked, and her black hair fell freely around her face. A face Loghain recognized well: Marcia's. Well, shit. 

“Ah, you’ve found her” the Count said “She is remarkable, isn’t she? The way she turns her head from the audience, the level of detail of her outfit, the skin against the black background… It’s quite the daring piece, and, may I say, my favorite portrait out of all that I own. Now that I come to think, about it, your wife has a slight resemblance to her. If she would only turned her face to us, we could better compare and admire them”

“Who is the lady in the portrait, my lord?” Marcia asked.

“Maybe it is not a fitting tale for such a lovely marriage, my dear”

“I am sure the tale is not that outrageous” Loghain said. 

“That would depend on who you ask. But, very well, I will reveal part of the mystery. The lady in the portrait is not exactly a lady. She was of noble birth, yes, but she was a mage so she couldn’t hold noble titles. My uncle, my mother’s brother, may they rest in the Maker’s bosom, was a man of the most curious tastes. He had this portrait commissioned”

“Why would your uncle commission a portrait of a mage?” she said.

“Because she was… I’ll put it lightly, dear Aida, she was his mistress. When he died, my uncle donated most of his collection to the University of Orlais, but not this portrait. It was found safely in his vault, along with his most prized possessions. As his only heir, I now retain its ownership and, may I confess, even if the lady was _what she was_ , I rather enjoy having her, watching her. I can see why my uncle felt so inclined towards her”

Marcia asked nothing else. The amount of restrain Loghain had to exercise there was well worth his safe-conduct to heaven. Maker's breath, the audacity and callousness of that man!   


“But enough decadent gossip” said the Count “You must join me for dinner”

“Oh we couldn’t possibly” said Loghain.

“It’s the least I can do. Please”

“My wife hasn’t been feeling too well today. A bit indisposed, nothing to worry about” Loghain improvised “I made the poor thing accompany me here, but I would prefer if we went back home early…”

The Count seemed to understand, but made them promise that they would visit for dinner another time. Marcia didn’t utter a word until they arrived home. Once at the farm, she had a full panic attack, her way. "Her way" was to lash out, of course. Their peaceful and idyllic rural life hadn't eroded her temperament. She complained for a while, angry, but her face had lost all color. 

“Dear Aida!” she exclaimed. “Dear Aida! I can’t believe the familiarity he showed me, in front of my own husband! And then there’s the portrait. The way he talks about her... about me, is repulsive. What if he recognized me? Maker, it could mean the end…”

“I don’t think he did. You are a very different person now”

“Nonetheless, I feel sick”

And then she just went silent. Loghain prepared a warm bath for her. He filled their metallic tub, one of the few luxuries they had, with water as hot as she liked it. Then he removed her clothes with care and put her in the bathtub. She rested there, relaxing, as he softly caressed her hair.


	3. Into the lion's den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loghain and Marcia had build such a pretty little life. It would be a pity if someone were to fuck that up.

Weeks went by, and life was again peaceful, private. Marcia’s fears of being recognized didn’t become manifest. They wanted to forget Count Lorryn, and so they went on as if their meeting never truly happened. A bad dream instead of a memory. Then, of course, another invitation was delivered. The Count hadn’t forgotten their promise of having them for dinner another time, and insisted that they must join him next Friday. Marcia didn’t take it well, obviously. She worried, as any sensible person would given the circumstances. Loghain convinced her that refusing the invitation would look suspicious; that it would only raise more questions about them. She eventually acceded, under protest.  


It was only the three of them at the table. The Count presided it, and placed Loghain at his right, and Marcia at his left. The dinner hall was dark; the only source of light were a few silver candelabra placed between platters and dishes. It was a strange choice of ambiance, but Loghain didn't think much of it. Perhaps the count didn't like bright lighting. The food was good, and the chatter rather boring, so everything was going well. Until Cedric dropped a seemingly innocent question.  


“I never had the chance to ask how you two met. A Marcher merchant and a Fereldan guardsman. It must have been quite the story”

“It’s really not that extraordinary…” Marcia said.

“Oh, I am sure it is interesting. Please, do tell, dear Aida”

Marcia told him the same made up bullshit she had been telling anyone who asked for two years. She had gone to Denerim in advance, before the rest of the family, to better study the market and opportunities there, without being noticed. Her family didn’t show up when they should have, and fearing that something could’ve happened, she contacted the city guard. That’s how she met him; he was the one to take care of her case. She would go to the barracks time and again, asking if there were any news. He was always there, with lots of kindness but never news. Then she found out what happened: demons from a rift. It was a sudden and horrible ending, but at least it had been fast. He went with her to retrieve the bodies, and he was sympathetic and gentle. Thanks to gossip from the serving girls and the owner of the inn she was living in, she later discovered that he had secretly been watching over her, making that nothing happened to her. That was the moment when her heart bounced. It was too late for anything, for she had a place in the next day’s passenger ship to Kirkwall. That night, she went to the barracks. She wanted to thank him and say goodbye. He wasn’t there, she was told. He had gone home. She rushed to his apartment, praying that he was there. When he opened the door and looked at her, she knew that she wasn’t going to board that ship. You know, the kind of bullshit that only happened in the novels. That sort of novels sold quite well, and so did her story. Nobody had ever questioned it.  


“It’s so romantic! Such a lovely story, thank you” the Count said, and raised his cup. He drank, seemed doubtful but cracked a smile and added “I have a story as well; it may not as beautiful as yours, but indulge me”

Count Lorryn carefully passed a handkerchief through his lips. 

“The other day you asked about the woman in the portrait, my dear Aida. I must admit that I didn’t know much about her, but I have made some inquires since then. I am a very inquisitive man, you see; if something picks my interest, I must follow through. Now I can tell you more about her and satisfy your own curiosity. It turns out that there was much more about her than I had thought at first" smile. "I might have underestimated her. The story that reached me was of her tragic death as a Grey Warden, along with her commander, the Warden Loghain Mac Tir. They died bravely, in an act of service, two years ago”

Loghain felt two cold blades against the skin of his throat and neck. All in the blink of an eye, too sudden, too unexpected. No defense was possible. Across the table, he could see that Marcia was in the same predicament as him. The blades were held by a figure darkened by the shadows, face covered, all dressed in black. The Count rose from his seat and approached her.

“That’s when the story gets interesting, Aida. There were no bodies to be found. It’s like they vanished into thin air. If they were alive and no more part of the order, he would be just a war criminal, and she would be an apostate; and both of them would be thieves and traitors. He would surely hang and she would be made tranquil. Did I mention that some of my personal guards are renegades from the Templar Order? They sure know how to take care of any rogue mage... Please, my dear, stand up. If you don’t, I’ll have your husband’s throat slit”

Marcia stood on her feet. There was still a blade to her throat.

“I… I don’t understand” she uttered. “Why are you doing this? What does your story have to do with us?”

“I know, I know. This is all a misunderstanding. You are just a helpless woman; your husband is just a retired guard. Maybe that’s the truth. That’s why I am going to order my man to stand back. You couldn’t possibly try to do anything, of course, because you are nothing but a merchant’s daughter. Still, take a look at your husband. If you even think of trying anything, you know the consequences”

The shadowed figure that threatened Marcia fell back into the dark corners of the room. She stood there, quiet. Loghain could still feel the blades pressing against him. Then there were another two; at a guess, the man that had just left Marcia had gone there to ensure that he behaved as well. 

“Maybe you are what you say you are” the Count said, satisfied. 

“Yes, my lord. Please. We’ll pay a larger share of our revenue. Please, just let us go” Marcia implored.

“I am afraid I cannot do that, my dear. I must be sure”

He walked around her. When he was behind her, with a rash and sudden movement, he opened her modest teal dress, and pushed it down. Marcia covered her torso, instinctively, trembling. Loghain tried to move, but the four daggers were still there, strong and sharp. He watched as a servant handed her a green off-the-shoulder dress, made of velvet. The Count ordered her to put it on. Once she was in the gown, he undid her bun, letting her hair loose. 

“Just one more thing”

He put a jeweled collar around her neck, and caressed her naked shoulders. He whispered something in her ear, and a single tear run through her face. 

“Observe her”

The light from the candelabra illuminated her against the pitch black darkness behind her. Dressed as she was, she had slightly turned their head from them, and looked away. She had been made a replica of her own portrait. Loghain felt a cold anger growing in him, an anger he hadn’t felt in years. They made him stand up and move to the other side of the table. There were more armed men than before, or maybe they were just more noticeable. Lorryn went back to her and, manhandling her, threw her at Loghain’s feet. 

“Confess, or I’ll force it out of her and make you watch” 

He understood the threat completely. He remembered his mother, and what he had seen done to her. In that moment, he had the certainty, even if he didn’t know when or how, that he was going to kill that man.  


“Tell us what the fuck you want already ” he said, coldly and gravely. He said it as Loghain Mac Tir, not as Mister Oakes.

The Count didn’t hide his disappointment. 

“No more games?” he asked. “Just when I was getting to the best part”

He ordered everybody out. Loghain was freed from the constant threat of blades and immediately helped Marcia back on her feet. The Count simply said:

“I want you to think of me as your new master” 

Marcia was still trembling, and Loghain kept an arm around her. 

“Why not just turn us in?”

“What benefit would that avail me, wasting such useful tools? No, I have no intention of turning you in. Besides, I am not a monster or without mercy. Your secret will be safe with me and you can go back to your quaint lives, as long as you serve me faithfully whenever I see fit”

“What stops you from turning us in after you decide that we’re no longer useful?”

“You shouldn’t worry about that. Someone like her is always useful”

“We cannot accept your terms”

The Count chuckled.

“These are not terms, these are a kindness. You are in no position to negotiate terms. Accept your new reality; you belong to me”

Marcia didn’t say a word on the way back home, her gaze lost somewhere in the mid distance. Once in the bedroom, she put on a nightgown and went to bed. Loghain reached to her, but she rejected him. He begged her to speak, to say anything, anything at all. 

“I told you not to go” she said, eventually. There was no reproach in her voice. There was nothing in her voice. 

“I am so sorry I didn’t listen. Forgive me”

“It is not your fault”

Loghain felt otherwise.

“It is not your fault” she insisted. “In fact, it was mine. It is my past that put us on the spot. My responsibility”

“Please, don’t say that. You know that’s not true”

He embraced her and tried to calm her.

“Maybe we could run away. Can you be located trough your phylactery?” he asked after a while.

“The Knight-Commander destroyed it when he left me; but I don’t think that it matters. We cannot make a run for it. We have to play it safe, think about the future. We’ll do whatever he asks of us, endure it no matter what and wait for an opportunity. He cannot keep us on a leash forever, and that’s when we’ll strike”

He wondered how she managed to be so rational, so cold about it. Then, he felt her searching for his warmth. He held her tight and realized that she was weeping in silence. 

Days passed without further news or demands from Count Lorryn, but they lived in a constant state of anxiety and distress, in fear of what would come next. Marcia was having the worst part. She started having trouble sleeping. Sometimes she would wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, sometimes she couldn’t sleep at all. Loghain tried his best to help her keep her balance, but he invested a huge amount of energy in just controlling himself. There was nothing he would desire more than murdering that son of a bitch; but he knew that doing so would only deteriorate their already precarious position. He grew frustrated, and she consumed herself in self-blame. Still, they kept their habits and customs intact. Discipline and routine were the backbone of a well-ordered mind, and they tried their best to follow them as before.  


The next market day, Loghain went to run errands as he used to, but brought Marcia with him. They shopped together and ate some food they bought at the market stalls. Then she insisted she wanted to see the animals. She seemed to enjoy watching the nugs, and the trader allowed her to pet one. Once she finally put it back in the pen, Loghain suggested that they should attend the puppet show. It was a satire of very dry humor, and Marcia laughed for the first time in days. When it ended, she stood on tiptoe and stole a kiss from him. They returned home soon after. At night, she read a novel by the hearth fire, in the living room while Loghain rested his head on her lap. It was a good day.

A noise woke him up. Some rays from the light of dawn sneaked in through the curtains. Marcia was still dreaming, murmuring some nonsense in a mix of elven and their language. He listened closely, but there was only silence. He didn’t want to wake her for nothing. Maybe he had dreamed it, maybe he was paranoid. He closed his eyes and tried to get a bit more rest before starting the day. He slept for a while, and it was Marcia, with an affectionate touch, the one to bring him back to the land of the vigil. 

“You overslept, old timer” she said, with a smirk.

Old and hungry. He got out of bed, put on some clothes and went downstairs, to the kitchen. Half a dozen of the Count’s soldiers and the man himself were waiting for him there.That was just rude, and also housebreaking.  


“Sit” the Count said, pointing at one of the chairs.

Loghain wanted to punch him, but he did as he was told. 

“Do you think she will linger upstairs long? Should I send some of my men to fetch her?”

“I am sure she will be here shortly”

Marcia came a few minutes later, still dressed in her sleepwear. She paled at the sight of the Count. 

“There you are, dear. Make us some tea, will you? Some of us have been waiting for long”

Loghain saw her clench her teeth as she put on the kettle. They waited in silence for the water to boil. It felt like forever. Not a word was spoken as she poured the tea into several cups. She served Loghain first, and then the Count. With a sudden movement, he spilled the boiling liquid on her arm. She let out a muzzled scream. Loghain jumped from his seat, but the guards unsheathed their weapons, and one of them placed a blade to the back of her neck.

“You serve me first. Let that be a lesson”

He helped himself to another of the teacups and then ordered his men to stand down, except the one threatening Marcia.

“Meet Denam, former Knight-Captain of the Templars of Therinfall Redoubt. After the Inquisitor exiled him, I gave him and some of his peers a second chance. He’s here to ensure that you behave. Be a good girl and tell him how nice it is to meet him, and mean it”

Marcia turned to face him and did that, as well as she could. She had always been a good liar.  


“Well, now that we’ve all been introduced, let’s get to it. You are going to prepare for a long trip to Orlais. You will depart for Val Royeaux in two days. Denam will accompany you and make sure you follow orders to the letter”

“And what are these orders?” Loghain asked.

“You’ll find out once you are there. I wouldn’t dare spoil the surprise for you”

As soon as the Count left, Marcia summoned a wave of restorative magic to cure her ailing arm. The burn left a slight mark. She looked at it with sadness. Loghain took her arm and kissed the would. 

“He’ll get what’s coming to him, eventually”

What was coming was surely going to be the funny end of Loghain's blade.

“I know” she said. “Orlais... What do you think awaits us there?”

“He’ll probably throw us to the wolves. I mean, the Game. We’ll need to be very careful.”

“Nobles I can handle. Well, except sociopaths like him. What really worries me is this Denam. A renegade knight-captain that still retains his skills can really hurt me if he wishes. Loghain, I know what he has done. I remember when he was judged at Skyhold. I was there, at the trial and sentencing. He murdered the Knight-Vigilant, and corrupted the ranks with red lyrium. He claims to have been deranged at the time, to have acted out of impeding fear of a greater power… Maybe he really did it because he had no choice; maybe he was willing. In any case, he’s dangerous. He could even make me tranquil…”

“I won’t let him. That’s a promise” he said “It killed me not being able to do anything; all these times that bastard hurt you. We cannot touch him yet, I know that; I know that our hands are tied. But I won’t let Denam do anything to you, whatever happens. Let me worry about him and you focus on worrying about the Game. If you think the Count is a sociopath, wait until you meet your regular Orlesian Marquis”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, without spoling it, let me say that things will improve from now on. This guy had to be a piece of shit but he won't be making more appearances here.


	4. Val Royeaux

The first time Loghain had been in Val Royeaux was years ago, as a Grey Warden. He had kept his stoic face, acted apathetic and uninterested by it, of course. He would sooner drop dead than let anyone know that he had secretly been impressed by it; that he had observed every detail of the lavish imperial capital; that he had admired it. Acknowledge it to anyone? Over his cold dead body. Marcia, then, was less subtle. She was simply captivated, and made little effort in hiding it.   


“I can’t believe I haven’t been here before” she exclaimed, eyes wide open.

“We are not on a pleasure trip” Denam said, frowning at her.

He was leading them. Where, he only knew. He hadn’t yet explained any of the Count’s orders.

“Don’t worry. With you here no one will mistake this for one of those” she threw back at him.  


Denam clenched his fist, but didn’t do or say anything. Loghain was surprised with his demeanor. He had expected him to abuse his position, to mirror the Count’s brutality and ruthlessness, but he was completely different. Denam turned out to be a very serious man, disciplined and strict. He didn’t trust Marcia, and watched her closely; but he was never rude or cruel to her. Marcia coped with their situation as best as she could. Loghain couldn’t blame her. He winked at her, conspiratorially and she smiled at him.She was enjoying the city, and nothing could take that away from her.   


They followed Denam into a quarter that was so wealthy that was simply _too much_. Obscene, even. They stopped before a great fenced gate, enclosed on a turquoise wall. Some guards were waiting for them, and let them in. Loghain wasn't exactly thrilled to be entering an unknown and well guarded location. Not that he could do anything about it. First, there was a courtyard. Then, there was another wall, a great garden with a fountain, exotic flowers and statues of white marble and finally, the palace. The chateau was white, turquoise and golden. Very golden. Those people were so rich that they put gold even at their fucking rooftops. There was no time for stopping and admiring the architecture, since they were led inside with haste. The floor there was also made of marble; tiles of different colors, forming a geometrical mosaic., The walls were covered by tapestries and frescoes, and over all... Loghain had to give it to them, it wasn't tacky. He expected tacky, alright. But this time, it was simply opulent. They followed the guard to a terrace that overlooked the inner garden. Yet another garden, Loghain thought. How big was that estate, exactly? The guard announced them at the door and left. 

Someone was waiting for them there. A masked man.  


“Welcome. I am Duke Cyril de Montfort. You must be Count Lorryn’s liaison, are you not?”

“Yes Your Grace” said Denam.

“Excellent. Then you must be the… assets”

“In a manner of speaking” uttered Loghain.

“I’ve been informed that you are quite the warrior… and the lady is a mage? But I don’t see any staff. Maybe I could procure fitting equipment for her, if she wishes it so?” he asked.

Marcia frowned.

“With all due respect, I don’t use staffs or fancy robes” she said. “I’m not one to shy away from the front lines and my gear must be appropriate for that”

“Ah, spoken like a true Dame. You are a woman after my own heart” he said, gracefully. “But I am afraid we will have to save further pleasantries for later. We have much to discuss”

The Duke explained their first move, but not the motivation, at least not sufficiently. They were to attend a party, a typical Orlesian masquerade. He and Marcia would play the part of some rich traders from the east. Marcia asked how was it possible that commoners were invited, and Duke Cyril just laughed and said that wealth, being it noble or commoner, was still wealth and even Orlesian nobility sometimes overlooked birth in favor of affluence. During the party they would have to sneak out and steal some documents from their host’s private quarters. The keys to the chamber and the container were provided by a servant that worked for him. There were magical safeguards that she would have to bypass once in the quarters. A true test of her skills, he said. Then they would put other documents in their place, put on the same safeguards and go back to the party like nothing happened. 

“The party is next Saturday. You should rest and prepare. I will have my seamstress visit you tomorrow”

A servant showed them to their rooms, in the guest wing of the palace. Once alone with Marcia, Loghain took off his boots and flung them into a corner. He jumped on the bed and just lied down, looking at the ceiling. He closed his eyes for a second and the next thing that happened was that he had drifted off.  


The next couple of days they were busy with the seamstresses and preparing for the party. Duke Cyril was impressed by Marcia’s knowledge of the etiquette, but if he had any questions about why she was familiar with it, he kept to himself. He was charming and respectful, but they never saw his face. Loghain had asked Marcia if she knew anything about their host, and she had said that he was a member of the Council of Heralds, and head of one of Orlais’ most influential families. That didn’t put Loghain’s mind at ease. Why someone so powerful would need two outsiders to carry out his bidding? Didn’t he have enough men at his disposal; couldn’t he pay for any agents he wished? It was a cause for concern, and he worried about the possibility that they would soon face a dagger in their backs.   



	5. If you want to ruin a party...

Loghain could barely recognize the man on the mirror, dressed in an Orlesian formal fashion. What he dreaded most was to put on the silver mask. It would be the moment in which he would see himself as the prototype of man he had always hated; the men that raped and killed his mother, destroyed his family, the men he fought for years, both in open war and also in covert maneuvers during times of _peace_. Marcia, who was already ready with a long burgundy dress, her chest corseted tight and her face covered by a golden mask, helped him put it on.

“It’s only for a night” she said.

The party was hosted by Duke Laurent de Ghislain, and took place in a palace that, to Loghain, looked just the same as Duke Cyril’s; lavish, obscenely rich, with a faint smell of oppression - just like a pinch of salt to add some flavor. He looked at Denam, who was awkwardly following Cyril and looked even more uncomfortable than him in those clothes. Once in the ballroom, he noticed Marcia staring and trying to avoid a woman that, by her looks, could have been from Rivain. She behaved like she owned the place, and she looked vaguely familiar to him. He had seen her before, that much he knew. But where? When?

“That’s Grand Enchanter Vivienne, lover of the late Duke de Ghislain. She has strong ties to his successor, Laurent. She’s well connected, and certainly holds influence. A wolf in sheep clothing” she whispered. “We must avoid her, for she might recognize us”

Of course, he thought. He had caught a glimpse of her in Skyhold. For once, he was grateful for the masks. Duke Cyril approached them and took Marcia with him to the dance floor. Loghain watched them dance gracefully. He led the waltz, and whispered in her ear from time to time; she giggled and acted flattered. He made her turn and turn, and then held her dramatically; their faces close, and everyone saw him caress her neck. Loghain frowned behind his mask, Perhaps Cyril was in for the funny end of his sword as well, when all that shit was over. Whatever all that shit was about. Denam, who was looking at them as well, next to him, uttered a soft “Maker’s breath”. In defense of Cyril, it could be said that the rest of the couples weren't exactly shy either. Typical Orlesian. When the music ended, Marcia went back to them. The Duke had given her the last details of the plan. She and Cyril would go upstairs, to the study. People had seen them dance and would believe that he was just seducing her. They wouldn’t ask any questions if they disappeared for a little while - but they would have to be quick. He wouldn’t let anyone put their hands on the documents but himself, he added. Loghain and Denam would stay at the ballroom and wait for them to return. Then, they would go on and enjoy the masquerade as if nothing had happened. That was the plan.

Denam stopped a servant and took a couple of cups of Antivan wine from the silver tray. He offered one to Loghain, and they drank in silence, in a quiet corner.

“You don’t have to watch her so closely, you know?” Loghain said at one point. “Before she was a mage, she trained to become a templar for years. I doubt you will find anyone more sympathetic to your own concerns about magic than herself”

“Yet she is an apostate” 

“She chose to lead the life of a farmer, and a devout Andrastian. She wouldn’t be using magic now if she wouldn’t have been forced to do so by your master”

“ _Our_ master”

Loghain sighed.

“Whatever. Just know that while you watch her, I’m watching you. And I’m not as good Andrastian as she is”

Denam said nothing. Several revelers tried to drag them to the dance floor, but they refused. They walked a bit around, avoiding Vivienne. Marcia and Duke Cyril were taking longer than expected. As they mingled swith the guests, they heard the whispers, words spoken behind fans and masks. Apparently they had started to believe that there was something between Loghain and Denam as well. He didn’t mind the gossip, but could see Denam blush a bit under his mask.

“It may actually benefit us that they think we are lovers”

“Two men!” uttered Denam.

Loghain wasn't thrilled either; not because they were two men, but because the other one was Denam.

“Hush and act like it. Orlesians are very relaxed for these matters. Just follow my lead”

“At least it will keep them from us…” murmured the former templar, unconvinced still.

Loghain took his arm and made him follow. He tried to reach the door to the inner garden, but it was closed. They sneaked again into the crowd, and then tried the door at the opposite side of the ballroom. It was closed as well. They were trapped inside, but the guests and host didn’t seem to realize that. There was a moment of silence, and Duke de Ghislain, accompanied by Vivienne, began to address the crowd. He wasn’t able to do further than that, though. All the lights went out, and in darkness, chaos reigned. A loud laughter was heard and then an exclamation:

“Red Jenny hails Duke de Ghislain, glorious mouthpiece to BitchVienne!!”

There was screaming. Why was there screaming? Ugh. When the lights were back on, Loghain could see the reason why. Hundreds of earwigs had been set free where the Duke stood. Everyone was running and crying, trying to evade the crawlers. That's when they realized that the doors and windows were locked and barred. Needless to say, that didn't help to improve the situation. The highest ranking guard managed to open one of them, and everybody run out to to the main hall. In the midst of the confusion, Marcia and Duke Cyril sneaked back to them.

“We need to find the servant, immediately!” said the Duke. “We’ve been betrayed”

 _Oh, really? How very surprising, said no one ever_ , Loghain thought.

They split up. Denam and the Duke rushed to the servant’s quarters, and Loghain and Marcia went to inspect the back courtyard. They saw her there, a young elf, trying to make it to the back exit. They ran behind her, but an arrow shot by an unseen archer hit Loghain in the leg. Marcia dashed forward and pushed her to the ground. Below her, the elf offered resistance, and stabbed her with a dagger. She ignored the wound and punched her unconscious. Loghain staggered towards her. Marcia was bleeding from her flank, but she still hauled the elf over her shoulders and managed to exit through the courtyard’s gate. He followed her as fast as he could - which wasn't too fast because...arrow. They waited, hidden in the shadows of some trees and bushes, for the Duke and Denam to arrive. Eventually, they showed up. Denam helped them into the carriage, and they hurried back to Cyril’s estate.

As soon as they arrived at the Montfort estate, the Duke called for his personal surgeon. Denam took the unconscious elf away and Loghain and Marcia were tended to, in their chambers. Cyril was present. Marcia’s wounds weren’t lethal, but she was still in pain and exhausted from carrying the servant on her own. Loghain’s leg, once the arrow was extracted, would cure well after some rest. The surgeon left short after giving her prognosis. The Duke remained, moved a chair next to their bed and sat.

“You must have questions” he said.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Loghain replied. He really wasn't in the mood for talking.

“We are alone now, the three of us. This is the best chance to speak privately, without Denam. He is not like you”

Not like them? Well, it was obvious to Loghain that they were nothing alike but... What did Cyril mean by that exactly? As far as he knew, the three of them were just pawns.

“You could start by telling me what happened upstairs at the Ghislain’s palace”

“Ah, but of course. Your wife, if that’s what she really is, played her part to perfection”

“It was all for nothing though” she murmured.

“Don’t be like that dear, you were impressive. She dismantled the subtle magic protecting our price in no time. We managed to make the exchange and place the other documents. Then she mimicked the very same magic. Everything was going just according to plan. We were betrayed. They were waiting for us, those despicable Red Jennies. They waited until she had put back in place the safeguards, and then attacked. They were quite a lot of them, and we were not expecting such an ambush. That’s when we understood that we had been used and that the servant was in league with them from the start. Luckily for us, your spouse managed to bring her to us. Magnificent work. Now it's my turn to do something about it. We will make her talk”

The Duke rose from his seat and poured some herbal tonic in a couple of cups. He offered them and they drank, under his gaze.

“But that’s not why I wanted to speak to you alone” he said as he gently removed the masks from Loghain and Marcia. Then he removed his own. For the first time ever, he showed his face to them. Loghain hated to admit that he was rather handsome. And young, around Marcia's age, probably. Black hair, blue eyes, good facial structure. Good cheekbones, a rather distinguished profile “No more masks, not tonight”

He removed the empty cups from their hands. Marcia seemed to feel better and casted a healing spell on Loghain’s injury. He wanted to tell her that she should focus on her own wounds, but the relief he felt was so that he kept silent. The Duke sat by a corner of the bed, on Marcia’s side.

“I will tell you why I wanted these documents” he said.

“Why trust us?” asked Marcia.

“Count Lorryn didn’t tell me who you were, but I have my own network of spies that spans even beyond the Empire. One of my bards has successfully infiltrated the Count’s inner circle. It wasn’t difficult to deduce your identities, given the circumstances. So, I know your secret; and I also know that you owe no loyalty to him or any of my rivals. That pleases me" he smiled. Charming, really. "I don’t trust you, and you shouldn’t trust me; I wouldn’t find you trustworthy if you did that just yet, but I would like to find you so”

“Help us understand, your Grace” Marcia said.

“Not your Grace, just Cyril. I trust the potion working well?”

Loghain nodded. The pain was gone, and he felt just fine, albeit a bit lightheaded.

“What I am going to tell you is a secret under penalty of death. The documents we tried to acquire were sought by the Emperor Gaspard de Chalons himself. You have been dragged into a game you were not even remotely prepared to play. And now these annoying Red Jenny agents have stepped into it”

“But why, why were we dragged into all this?”

“All you have to know for now is that Count Lorryn descends from an ancient Orlesian bloodline and seeks to reclaim dominion over the Emprise du Lion an area in the Dales’ highlands. His claim is legitimate, but the circumstances of his case are controversial to say the least. Claims over titles are solved by the Council of Heralds, and I am sure you already know that I am a member thereof. I needed outside, highly skilled, and reliable help to carry out the Emperor’s secret _venture_ , and the Count needs me to gain the Council’s support. You, two individuals that by all accounts do not exist anymore, are the perfect agents”

That was... quite the mess.

“I thought Emperor Gaspard abolished the Game when he ascended to the Throne” Marcia said, as she moved a bit, trying to get comfortable.

A chuckle from Cyril.

“Of course he did, officially, but that doesn’t mean that the nobility would stop playing it”

“And why would he need to get into the Game once more” she insisted.

“Such an inquisitive mind, Marcia” he said.

She coughed a little and he loosened up her corset. That was a license Cyril took that Loghain didn't quite like. He gave him an icy stare.

“I am just trying to help" Cyril said. "Corsets are not bad, once they are worn and adapted to the wearer's body. This one is still not fully adapted to you, so it must be annoying. Do you feel better now?”

Marcia uttered a shy yes.

“But I still want to know what the hell is happening” she added, immediately.

“I am afraid I cannot tell you more until I am sure that I can have your freely given loyalty. I won’t force you into submission like the Count did. I would be very grateful for your unabridged assistance in the matter. But as I said, I wish only for your free and willful consent”

Loghain turned to Marcia. She nodded at him. To hell with it, he though. He would never trust the Duke, but his spite for Count Lorryn was stronger than his suspicions.

“You can count on us” he said.

“A wise choice indeed” the Duke smiled. “We will continue this conversation tomorrow. You’re way too tired tonight. I shall let you rest”


	6. Games

With help from both medicines and Marcia’s basic healing skills, they recovery process was going well. The Duke didn’t trouble them during that time, he just drop once in a while to make sure that they were comfortable and well assisted. Denam had been busy with the prisoner, though. He had extracted all the information they needed regarding her involvement with Red Jenny and their safe houses. Once fully interrogated, she was delivered to an emissary of the Emperor. 

“He will decide what to do with her" Cyril didn't seem to give a fuck about what would happen to her next. He probably didn't. "These Jennies are a pest. They clearly favored our late Empress Celene, and now they have become more political than ever”   


It was a calm night, and the Duke had come to meet them in their chambers, through a secret passage. 

“I feel bad for her” Marcia confessed. “Maybe we should ask the Emperor to be lenient” 

“Don’t be. She would have stabbed you to death given the chance” Cyril replied “Still, your compassion, even if misplaced, my lady, moves me”

Cyril took her hand and pressed his lips on her skin. Loghain stared at him, scowling. Was the duke out of his mind? The gall he had, doing that in front of him. Cyril gazed at back at Loghain, and passed his soft fingers through his hair and cheeks. _Wait, what_. Loghain froze, not knowing what was happening anymore. No, that's not accurate. He knew exactly what was happening there; but on a deeper level, he didn't have a clue. There was loud screaming at the back of his head. That was some sort of trap, of manipulation. Yes. Most certainly.  


“You never explained why Count Lorryn turned to you for help” he said, keeping his cool, keeping things professional.   


“There are rumors that I am the weak link in the Council; rumors that are convenient for the flow of favors they bring me. A favor I make, is a credit I hold against someone. I might show more kindness than my peers, but don’t mistake that for feebleness. I might be the youngest, but don’t mistake my youth for inexperience” he turned to Marcia “Just as you wouldn’t judge her as weak or naïve, don’t believe those rumors about me”

Alright, Loghain got it. Cyril is just another wolf in sheep's clothing. Nothing that he didn't already know, but it was nice of him to admit it. Cyril walked towards Marcia, and she turned to Loghain. She seemed confused. What Cyril was trying accomplish there was as obvious as a bronto in a mirror shop. Still, why not? Perhaps they could use that to their advantage? And he was quite handsome. Quite _sufferable_ , for an Orlesian. Something made Loghain held her from the back, keeping her still, facing Cyril, who started to undo her outer corselet. Her breathing became faster as Loghain left a trail of kisses and bites on her neck. She didn’t protest, but at some point stopped the Duke. 

“Your Grace hasn’t told us yet why the documents are so important for both the Emperor and Red Jenny” she said.

Cyril seemed amused. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d dare say you are trying to bargain for information”

“No, my Lord; but if we are not to be trusted with such knowledge, I wonder what is your purpose here, tonight”

“Aren’t my purposes clear enough?” he asked.

“Not at all”

He held her chin and smiled, captivating as ever. She withstood his gaze, she didn’t even blink.

“Be very careful, dear. It would look like you are trying to play the Game. It’s dangerous” he said. “But I understand; let’s not get carried away too fast”

He fixed her corselet with precision and caressed her cheek.

“If that’s what you wish, I’ll leave. I am sure we will have more opportunities to get us all better acquainted”

And then he left them. Marcia poured water into her cup, and drank it avidly. Then she walked around the room, nervous. Loghain decided to keep quiet. He was embarrassed for what just happened. What the fuck was he thinking? He had been on the brink of sharing Marcia with another man; with an Orlesian noble, Maker forbid. Yes, Cyril de Montfort was attractive; yes, he found the thought of him and Marcia strangely appealing; and yes, he was ashamed of himself.

“Do you think it was a test?” she said, interrupting his train of thoughts. “It must have been a test of some sort. Right? Loghain, are you listening? Am I right?”

“I don’t know what to think" he stared at the flames, and then at her "I am so sorry”

She stopped moving.

“Why?”

“My behavior was unworthy”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about” she said. 

“You seemed very willing though. Was it real or were you trying to manipulate him somehow?”

“Would it be terrible if it happened to be both things? I wanted you both, but I also wanted to make it clear that we are not simple tools”

“I guess the Duke had that double purpose as well” he said.

“Did I give you a satisfactory answer?” she asked.

“I don’t know”

“You were leading, directing me. I thought that’s what you wanted”

“It was”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“What does it mean that I wanted that?” he said. “I want to treat you with respect”

He sat by the bed and covered his face with his palms. Marcia sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Get this into your head: it’s fine”

She laughed and he felt better. 

“So you’re decided to try and play this Game?” he asked. 

“If we are to work for the Duke as we agreed, we need all the information and all the leverage we can gather to make it out alive”

“And then there’s Denam” he added.

“We need to keep him alive but blind. He needs to report to Lorryn periodically. As long as he does, the Count won’t stab us in the back. I noticed a change in his attitude, for the better. He doesn’t lurk me that much. Why would that be?”

Loghain smirked.   


“I am not charming like the Duke, but I sure know how to make myself clear”

“That you do”   


A couple of days later, their wounds were fully healed and the time came to discuss their next step. As expected, Duke de Montfort charged them with recovering the stolen documents. 

“You are to expect opposition. The cell here in Val Royeaux carries out jester’s deeds most of the time, immature and petty pranks like those earwigs at the masquerade. Don’t let that fool you, they are well trained and organized” Cyril said. 

“I believe we’ve already grasped that” Loghain said. “But why are we following you through this passage?”

“It’s a surprise” he replied.

They followed Cyril through the secret passage he had used several times to meet with them in their room unnoticed by Denam. It led, of course, to his personal chambers. Loghain expected them to be over the top, as everything Orlesian seemed to be, but it wasn’t the case. It was big, and wealthy but not too extravagant. The Duke closed the passage behind them. A marble fireplace emitted a warm, welcoming light, but cast flickering shadows on the room as well. The sight was still beautiful. There were some carved wooden screens that covered a part of the room. Cyril removed them and showed them what they concealed: two armor stands.

“I commissioned these armors for you, using the measurements my seamstresses took of you. I hope you forgive my boldness, but you came to Val Royeaux without equipment. Given the circumstances, you are going to need it. This one is for you” he told Marcia.

The model of the equipment was clearly Orlesian, but not too ornamented. Simple and elegant. The chestpiece was made of plate armor; the pauldrons and gauntlets were not too bulky. There was a long and finely woven grey gambeson underneath, which covered the chainmail that protected the legs. There were also pieces of plate to be attached to the boots, a sword and a small traditional Orlesian mask to cover her eyes. Loghain knew instantly that Marcia loved it. Cyril realized that just as well and kept her gaze on her eyes, half grinning. 

“As for you, Loghain, I hope I managed to please you”

The second set of armor was not Orlesian. It slightly resembled Fereldan style, but not completely. It was one of a kind, dark, and mixed medium and heavy pieces. To conceal his identity, a hood and a mouth mask were added. There was also a sword and a shield. Loghain took the blade and it examined it. The craftsmanship was truly remarkable. He nodded laconically in approval, and the Duke seemed very satisfied.   


“Thank you, but this is too much” Marcia said, after taking another look at it. “We will repay the cost…”

He interrupted her.

“Consider this a liberality, an indulgence, Marcia. No strings attached. I only wish to outfit you in the best possible way. I’d dread to think I could lose any of you to those malcontents. Take this gift freely”

“Freely? That’s why we are in your alcove, just the three of us?” she asked, as she came closer to him.

Loghain stood where he was, just observing. He could swear that, for a moment, Cyril was about to kiss her, but nothing happened. Instead, the Duke stepped back and said:

“My dear lady, I would never accept any of your affections as a transaction”

Back in the guest chambers, once in bed, Loghain reflected upon all that had transpired with Cyril. He  _knew_ that he was just as ruthless as Count Lorryn. A wolf in sheep clothing that kept them as blind pawns. Charming and polite; used seduction instead of coercion, but he was plotting something. He didn’t know if they had made the right choice, but then again, beggars can’t be choosers. They’ll have to work with the cards they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. Guess it was all "for the lulz".


	7. A night out

At dusk, the waterfront district was as lively and busy as ever. Sailors, workers, hustlers and all kinds of colorful characters, were there seeking their fortunes, no matter the hour. Even Val Royeaux had that kind of harbor quarter, murky and dirty for Orlesian standards. The area was poor; thin, twisted streets and humble buildings, stacked and overcrowded. There was certainly no gold in those rooftops, and that didn't came as a surprise. Poverty is just the same, doesn't matter where in Thedas you were born.  


“I feel overdressed” murmured Marcia, who was still getting used to her new armor.

They turned around the corner and saw a group of drunken, well-dressed upper class citizens stumble into one of the establishments, surely looking for cheap thrills. Maybe some of them were even noble. How very _cliché_.  


“I stand corrected” she said, observing the lot of them.  


It didn’t take them long after that to get to the building they were looking for. _The_ _Winking Wyvern Trading Company,_ read a big wooden sign. It was closed, and it seemed deserted. Luckily for them, the house was situated in a dark and secluded alleyway, so Denam picked the lock without troubling himself with the possibility of being spotted.

“Your templar training differed from mine a great deal” she said.

“When you are branded as renegade you pick up a few things along the way” he replied.

“Mostly locks, I see” she chuckled.

He grunted and they came in. The interior was dark, and Marcia summoned a wisp to light the way. The entrance and main hall seemed normal enough, just what one would expect of a trading company. There were crates and shelves of merchandise, a counter and some goods on display. Loghain checked if there was any document of relevance behind the counter, but there was nothing there besides a sealing stamp, a dagger and a few copper coins. They continued their search upstairs. They found a small study. Marcia checked the desk, but it was locked. Denam examined it, but shook his head.

“I cannot open that”

“Marcia, give me some light here, please” Loghain said. There was something about that bookshelf... He could feel faint stream of air through it. He just needed to find the switch. With naked hands, he carefully passed his fingers through the shelves, looking for any hidden mechanism. Marcia seemed invested in observing the process. She did always tell him that he had beautiful hands. Eventually, he found a fake book. He winked at her and pulled it. That shelve moved and revealed a hidden chamber, a bedroom. There were all sorts of miscellaneous objects all around it. In the nightstand drawer, Loghain found a key. He tried it on the desk, and it worked. Nonetheless, all he found was a note, written in crimson ink.

“Too late, suckers. Regards to BitchVienne” he read aloud. “They believe we work for this Vivienne and the de Ghislains”

“That may be useful” Marcia said from the bedroom, raising her voice. She seemed to be busy.

“So we are to come back empty handed?” Denam said.

“Maybe not” Marcia said, as she dropped a tome on the table. “I found the ledger”

“Where was it?”

“Under the mattress. Can you believe it?” she said. “Who leaves something like that under the mattress?” 

“Someone who wants it to be found or someone who thinks we are stupid enough to overlook things after finding the note” Loghain replied. “Let’s bring the diary book to the Duke”

“I’ll carry it, no argument" Denam said. Fine. Let him have the stupid book. Perhaps he wanted to feel important.  


They left the trading base without further incident. Loghain couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about it all. There were no traps, no opposition; just a clear path. They passed through the establishment they had seen the drunk and rich stumble their way in. Some women and men, human and elven, all of them pretty, were outside. They surrounded Denam, who tried to get them off him, in vain. Loghain saw him loose consciousness, and a swift elf ran from the crowd with the tome. Marcia chased after her, and he followed her. Why running. It always came to running. Ugh. Loghain was getting to a certain age when running wasn't exactly the thing he wanted to do all the time. They followed the elf through passageways and back alleys, to a solitary courtyard in a non-residential area... right into an ambush. Obviously. Two archers and two prowlers were waiting for them, and with the elven thief, they were five against two; and no witnesses. The girl spoke.

“We expected House de Ghislain to send more than just three men. This is very insulting”

She signaled her comrades and they began their attack. They were swift and precise, and proved to be hard opponents. It took Loghain and Marcia a while to switch from merely defending themselves to actually going on the offense, but when they reached that point, they clearly prevailed. The thief tried to make a run for it with the book, but Marcia froze her. The lower half of her body was encased in crystal ice. The cold was slowly moving up.

“Drop the book” Marcia ordered. “Drop it and I’ll let you go”

The elf refused, and observed, in horror, her torso becoming a frozen statue. Then there were her shoulders, and her neck.

“Fine!” she cried, as she dropped the tome.

Loghain retrieved it, and Marcia did as she said. The elf run to the shadows and disappeared. Time to find their third. Denam was fine, just passed out where they left him. Marcia took out her lyrium flask, opened his mouth and dropped a couple of drops in his mouth. Denam woke up to the taste of lyrium, then looked at her and pushed her away from him. 

“You are welcome, asshole” Marcia murmured.

They made sure they weren’t followed before going back to the de Montfort estate. Cyril was waiting in the library. Loghain silently passed him the ledger, and Marcia summarized a report. The Duke thanked them and dismissed them, not without giving him a complicit gaze. The three of them went to the guest wing. Loghain made sure Denam saw them entering their room. He locked the door from the inside and got off his armor, washed a bit and put on clean clothes. He looked in the mirror and then saw white hair, some intruders among his obsidian mane. He took one of them in his fingers, and when he was about to pull it, Marcia crept behind him and asked:

“What are you doing?”

He stopped and turned to face her. She still had her chestplate and pauldrons on.

“Nothing”

“It was a rhetorical question. I saw what you were doing. Why?”

“When we were chasing that elf, there was a moment when I couldn’t keep up the pace. You weren’t using that barrier or whatever thing that is spell and, without it, I felt myself lagging behind you”

“And that makes you concerned about your looks?”

“Maybe, yes”

“My barrier spell cannot make you pretty, you know?”

He laughed. 

“I know; that would take a miracle from the Maker himself” he said.

“Now, I am serious. I am sorry I didn’t realize. But you shouldn’t pull your white hairs for that. I’ve realized that they were there some time ago. Please, don’t make a fuss over it” she said, and then she lowered her voice to add “I find it rather attractive”

“Do you?” 

Loghain raised an eyebrow, and half a smile crossed his thin lips. 

"Pity we don't have some time right now" he added. Cyril was expecting them. For a kiss, however, there was more than enough time.


	8. Sleepless in Val Royeaux

Cyril was waiting for them in his chambers, sitting on the couch by the fireplace with the book resting on his lap. With a gesture, he invited them to join him. Marcia sat in the middle between him and Loghain. She was very daring that evening. Loghain guessed that the street fight had given her back a lot of self confidence.

“I’ve been through this document...” the Duke began. “Transactions and meetings, obviously in code names, all of them past”

“Any pattern?” she said.

“Most of the movements that are tracked are chaotic, but yes. There are some fixed patterns and schedules. Some of these code names are _regulars_ and their meetings, cyclical”

“And you realized that in the time between our arrival and now?” Loghain said.

“I am very proficient at working with that sort of papers” he replied. “Besides, you took your time. For a moment I thought you were not coming” he interrupted himself and softened his tone “Oh, I understand. You were in a fight, you are tired, and you stopped to catch your breath. Nothing wrong with that”

Well, they had to wash a bit and change clothes. It would have been rude of them to go there as they had arrived, wouldn't it? And they had needed some alone time. Alone time. Such a sparse thing.

“May I see that?” Marcia asked.

“Well of course” he said. He placed the book between their laps, passed pages back and forward. “Here, and here again. And there. Of course I have no idea who is behind these names”

Marcia looked more closely and stood silent for a while, focused. Cyril didn’t say a word, and Loghain just observed her. She seemed calm and still, but he knew that she was masking an emotion. She had found something unexpected then; something known to her, maybe. With a sudden motion she closed the book.

“Any insights, dear?” Cyril asked.

“One of the names might ring a bell. Allain Boivin. He is one of the regulars”

“Do you know him?”

“I… crossed paths with him on several occasions, years ago”

“Is it a real name?”

“Maybe. That’s the only name he would give”

Loghain took the book and examined it. According to the dates, if the pattern was to be followed, the next meeting would take place in a few days, in a place only referenced as “breeches’ harvest”. That wasn’t very helpful.

“If there’s anything else can tell that would help us plan our next move, please don’t hold back. Do tell” the Duke said.

Marcia looked at him in the eyes.

“Are we really going to trust each other?”

He rested his hand on her shoulder.

“I’d like that very much. But nothing I could say would put your mind at ease; I know you that much. Not after the blackmail and abuses you both have suffered” his eyes met Loghain’s “Hard to trust an Orlesian Duke after witnessing the worst our Empire could offer. I am not those men”

Loghain said nothing.

“This is all cloak and dagger and you are worried that when you are of no use to me you will find a cold blade in your backs. It is only natural” he continued. “It would be the kind of thing most of my colleagues at the Council of Heralds would do. But, you see, the last thing I want to do is to hurt you”

He took Marcia’s hand and kissed it.

“Unless you asked me to do it in different circumstances, of course” he added, charmingly.

Her cheeks reddened, but she stood still.

“May I speak my mind?” she said.

“Yes. You may always speak your mind here”

“Thank you. If we discover where the meeting will take place, I would advise against a frontal attack or disrupting it in any manner” she said. Cyril seemed surprised but kept listening. “We shouldn’t be hasty when we could learn so much if a small group were there, hidden, to watch, listen and follow. Denam clearly lacks the… subtlety and subterfuge needed for such a task. Besides, whatever we discover, remember that his loyalty isn’t to you, but Lorryn. Let Loghain and me take care of it. Please”

“So now you are asking me to trust you” he said. “What do you think about that plan?”

“I defer to her judgement on this one” Loghain replied.

“And how do you suggest we keep Denam from joining the mission, when he’s tasked to keep you, specifically, in line?” he asked Marcia.

Marcia smiled and moved closer to him. Loghain stood where he was, and just observed her.

“A man as powerful and resourceful as you clearly can indulge in the most exotic caprices and tastes. Nothing is beyond your reach. So exotic that his stomach couldn’t take it. That and some drops from the right flask should do the trick”

Cyril leered, and pulled her towards him.

“My, my… You are a mischievous one. Very interesting”

Their faces were so close that and the tension was so clear that, for a moment, Loghain thought that, this time, he was going to finally kiss her. But he had seen that before, right? Instead, he whispered something in her ear, and pulled back. Loghain didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.

“We’ll act in accordance with your proposition” he said.

"He told me he was my servant" Marcia said, out of the blue, when they were back in their chambers.

"Excuse me?"

"When he whispered in my ear"

"Ah"

He would be lying if he said that he didn't wonder about what Cyril might have told her. He expected something vaguely flirty. Had that been flirting? Loghain didn't have a clue.

“Tell me of this Allain Boivin. You are clearly hiding something. Since the Duke wishes to be your _servant_ , he played along. But we are alone now”

She buried her face in her pillow, and said nothing. He caressed the skin of the back of her neck and shoulders, under her shirt. She shivered, but didn’t change her attitude.

“Don’t be difficult. If I am going on that mission, I deserve to know what is really going on"

She turned and stared at the ceiling.

“Maker, this is going to be embarrassing. But you were going to know, sooner or later. Just don’t be a pain in the ass about it”

“I promise” he reassured her. “Was Allain Boivin, _someone_ of your past?”

“Loghain, Allain Boivin doesn’t exist”

“What?”

Was it a codename?

“It was the character I made up for my brother, when we played and sparred as kids. Allain Boivin was the evil Orlesian noble… my character’s nemesis”

“Your character?” he said “You mean me?”

“Wait. You knew about that all along?” she cried. Her face was red. Redder than an Antivan wine.

“Yes. Your brother didn’t just tell me that _The Hero of River Dane_ was your favorite bedtime story; he also told me about you playing pretend. He mentioned the braids as well”

“This is very awkward”

“Just so you know, I find it adorable” he chuckled “Little Marcia beating up her brother with her hair braided like those depictions of me, in the name of Maric and Ferelden. Such a charming family memory”

“That’s why you were so restrained with me and didn’t act on your feelings?”

“There were other reasons, but that was the main one”

“I understand; you didn’t want to abuse your position. But you didn’t need to be so wary” she said. “I fell for the imperfect man, not his legend counterpart”

“And here we are now” he said, embracing her.

“I still feel a bit embarrassed” she whispered after a while.

“You should. When I met your brother he was still terrified. Seeing me brought back some deeply rooted childhood traumas, you know?”

Marcia laughed.

“That makes me feel better. We may even have the possibility to make new memories and new traumas, if my hunch is right”

“So you are convinced that we will find your brother, then?”

“It can’t be a coincidence”

She sounded very convinced.

A few days later, right after dinner, Cyril summoned them to his chambers. He welcomed them with a smile. He poured golden liquor into three cups, and invited them to drink. It was refined, light, felt almost weightless and a bit sweet.

“I have found the meeting place” he said, after their cups were empty.

“How so?” Loghain asked.

“I went through all the intelligence I have gathered over these years about the Friends of Red Jenny. There was a very strange incident a few years back that I believe was linked to them. Several guardsmen and a rogue minor noble were found dead in a courtyard, here in Val Royeaux. The guards had no breeches”

“So you have been investigating the Jennies?” Marcia said.

The Duke grinned and refilled their glasses.

“Yes. The Emperor tasked me with that, short after his ascent to the throne”

“But your father, Duke Prosper de Montfort was close to Celene…”

“I am not the same man as my father, dear. And yes, my father handled… delicate and dangerous dealings for her. I haven’t only inherited his title and position; I have inherited his network of agents and intelligence. The Emperor is a pragmatic man, Marcia. I was chosen because I was the best suited to serve him and because I have no reason to raise my voice against him. Besides, on a personal level, I'm nothing like my father”

“You are loyal to him? Forgive me if I am too bold, but it’s known that some nobles aren’t happy with Gaspard on the throne”

“Ah, I believe that by now there are no remaining houses opposing him” he said, with a wink. “At the beginning of his reign I was concerned, of course. I was terrified that the years of peace with Ferelden would come to an end, that he would bring war once more, as if our Empire wasn’t enough war-torn already. But he surprised us all. He settled all disputes with Ferelden and ensured peace. He healed, rebuilt, and then rallied his armies, but this time, to fortify the border with Tevinter. He is a brilliant strategist, and has achieved many victories. He’s a strong leader that won't suffer opposition, but he has stabilized Orlais. So you ask me if I am loyal to him. I am, undoubtedly. Celene might have looked prettier on the throne, and she knew how to make herself loved by the people, but she wasn’t a pure and innocent ray of sunshine either”

“That bitch Celene tried to get rid of my daughter, Queen Anora and cohort with King Cailan in a bloodless coup during the Fifth Blight” Loghain said. He couldn’t help it; he needed to spit it out. "Good riddance"

“There was indeed darkness in her, and she and her court were too self-absorbed and focused on the Game. The same Game that got her killed, ironically. Gaspard’s perspective is something fresh, for a change, and very much needed”

Loghain couldn’t care less if Gaspard was that or if he was the Queen of Antiva; he was glad he was not Celene, but he kept it to himself and finished his glass.

“The quest to retrieve the documents from the Ghislain’s estate, was it part of your task against the Jennies?” Marcia asked.

“It came from the throne as well, but it is a different task” Cyril replied. “Red Jenny’s involvement was an unforeseen turn of events”

“Would you tell us why Gaspard wants these documents?”

“Maybe another time” he said, with a soft laugh, and lowered his tone “Don’t you enjoy a little bit of mystery, Marcia? It keeps things interesting and exciting. But, by all means, keep asking me questions, please. I enjoy that”

“All right” she said. “Why would the mighty Gaspard de Chalons be concerned about a band of outcasts and malcontents like the Jennies?”

“I believe that, at some point, I mentioned that the Jennies have become way more active since Celene’s death. They might be outcasts and malcontents, but with every act of revolution they achieve, they gain followers and resources. Not only the lowest of them anymore, by the way. Their network is flourishing, and they picture Gaspard as the kind of _tyrant_ worth fighting against. Don’t fool yourself for a second, the Jennies are not just jesters that throw cakes and pull pranks as revenge on nobles who allegedly deserve it. Andraste forgive me, I’d say that some of them did deserve the humiliation and we all knew it, but that’s beside the point. They play the card of moral superiority because they are _the little people_ , but they often resort to murder, extortion, poisoning… whatever means necessary if it suits their interest. They are a radical, dangerous group, and they would only award that _little people_ they insist they represent, more oppression if things escalate. They don’t have the numbers or the discipline to harm the Emperor now, but he won’t stand by and let them grow into a more pressing threat”

“There was a cell in Denerim” Loghain recalled. “They caused me a trouble or two during the Blight”

“You would understand, then. This isn’t only a matter for Orlais. Ferelden and the Free Marches suffer also from their work. What if they become organized and coordinated? How much more unrest can Southern Thedas suffer in so little time? It seems only yesterday when we were still fighting the Breach in the sky, and now that we can enjoy peace, it seems a lot of parties are preparing for more trouble…”

“What do you mean?”

“Tevinter isn’t the only threat. We need to start worrying about the Qunari. Also, there’s the matter of the elves”

“Qunari and elves?” she asked.

“I represented the Emperor at the Exalted Council that ended the Inquisition, my dear. A lot of things occurred during those days. Most of them, only your brother and his closest circle know about. Qunari assassins, elven agents; two factions and attacks, incursions, cover-ups... Your brother prevented the Qunari invasion, for now. He wouldn’t tell much about the elves, though, but a while after that, some of the servants started to simply disappear”

“They disappeared?”

“Yes. They vanished; not only at Halamshiral, but across the Empire. Nobody knows where or why. After the mess at the Exalted Council, we don’t know what to expect anymore or from where. We also have reason to suspect that the Jennies had access to that information and that they would take advantage of any situation of strife that would arise, if they don’t facilitate the strife themselves. That’s a possibility we cannot afford to overlook. Sometimes, it feels like we are in the brink of… something worse that what we have already endured”

Cyril’s gaze was lost in the flames, and Loghain saw true dread in his eyes. He recognized those eyes, those of someone that carry too much on their shoulders. So Cyril cared about more than his own ambitions, after all. The three of them drank in silence. There, on the couch, the warmth from the fireplace and the spirits made Loghain feel cozy. At some point, Marcia rested her head on his chest, with her eyes closed. She mumbled that she wouldn’t fall asleep, that she was just relaxing for a while. Cyril looked at them, his delight shadowed by a touch of sadness. On one occasion, Marcia caught him looking, and he turned his stare away.

“So you secretly worry too much, full time?” she asked, probably induced by the liquor in her system.

The Duke laughed.

“Exactly so”


	9. Two cats on the cold blue roof

The secluded courtyard was barely illuminated by the waning moon above. There was no sign of the Red Jennies. It was simply empty. Loghain and Marcia were crouching on one of the shadowed rooftops, waiting. She wasn’t wearing all the heavy pieces, in order to favor stealth.It was only the two of them. As far as he knew, Denam was still with his head deep in a bucket, and suffering from a very well timed acute intestinal ache. Marcia was, of course, beside herself to see  that things were being done her way, for a change. They lurked there, for what felt like an eternity. 

At some point Loghain started to wonder if Cyril’s intelligence was wrong and they were just losing their time. Besides, he was uncomfortable. Humans weren't made for stalking on Orlesian rooftops. Of all rooftops, those had to be the most painful to crouch on. Then, a hooded figure, wearing medium armor and carrying a bow, stepped into the courtyard. It seemed to be a man. He looked around, checking every corner. Fortunately, he didn’t see them. After finishing his reconnaissance, he just rested his back against a shadowed wall, and waited. It wasn’t long until another person joined him. Loghain recognized her: the elven woman that Marcia spared. The one who tried to get the ledger.   


“Do you have it with you?” the man asked, after a brief greeting.  


Loghain saw Marcia listening close, her eyes narrowing behind her silver mask, her body getting tense.

“There’s been a change of plans” she replied.

“What do you mean?”

“We had to get the documents out of the city right after acquiring them. Our mole, the servant girl, was caught. She talked, obviously, for soon after they arrived at our base of operations. We had a run in with them”

“I trust that they are still sealed, right?”

“Yes, all the necessary precautions have been taken”

“So when do I get them?” he asked.

“Not when; where. As I mentioned, precautions have been taken. You will have to get them yourself. No one else is authorized to deal with them anymore, except their custodian”

“You suspect we are being betrayed from within?”

“Maybe”

“Where must I go, then?”

“I don’t know”

“What?” he cried. 

“Lower your voice!” she said. “I don’t know where, but I was told to give you a message that should help you find the place”

“Oh, let me guess, another riddle” he replied, sarcastically. “All right, give it to me”

“Onterre” 

There was a moment of silence.

“Thank you”

“Good luck, monsieur Boivin” 

The man left, but she remained. She looked around, like she was searching for them. Loghain knew that she couldn’t have possibly seen them or know that they were there. Still, they hid and didn’t make a sound. After a while, she must have been satisfied, for she abandoned the courtyard as well. Just in case it was a rouse to make them abandon their hiding place, they waited some time before leaving their position and didn't go straight to the estate. They had to be careful not to be followed. Much to Loghain’s relief, it seemed that she had been truly gone. 

Once down from the rooftop and on their way to Montfort’s estate, Loghain asked Marcia the obvious question: was the hooded figure her brother. She said yes, and asked him to keep the secret.

“You don’t have to ask me that” he said, softly “But be careful with the games we are playing”

“I know. I just want to protect him, I guess. And protect ourselves. We need to remain anonymous. Maker knows what will happen if he knows it’s us”

“You believe that your own brother would betray you?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. What I know is that… we barely know each other, and never liked each other much”

Loghain thought that she was being a bit too much bitter, but said nothing. Maybe she was just disappointed by his involvement with the Friends of Red Jenny. 

Cyril was waiting for them in his study. He had kept himself busy with paperwork, by the looks of it. When he saw them, he put his quill aside and. It was clear that he tried to act calm, but couldn't mask his impatience. Before he asked for a debriefing, Marcia gave him a version of what happened.  


“Onterre? Are you sure you heard that name?”

“Yes, and that’s the only clue given”

“Interesting…”

“Where is Onterre?” she asked.

“Oh dear, Onterre is not a place; it is a noble house. House d’Onterre” he said.

“Could they be in league with the Jennies?”

“Maybe. The remaining d’Onterres have moved to Lydes after…” he stopped talking, and walked around the room, thinking. “I need a bit of time to go through some documents. You two must be tired, so go back to your quarters. I’ll meet you there when I’m done”

Their bedroom was warm, for someone had kept the fireplace on. Marcia removed the armor pieces from her outfit and was left with the gambeson and the leather trousers. 

“So you think it will take him long?” she asked, with a wink.

Loghain wondered how she got that energy. They had been on a rooftop for hours, crouching and skulking, and he was sure that whatever was coming next wasn’t going to be easy. He only wanted to get some rest. Still, her disposition amused him. 

“Duty first, regrettably” he said.

Marcia started to attentively remove his armor, with care for both the armor and the man in it. She took off his cotton shirt next, and stood still behind him. He wondered what was crossing her mind, but then felt her hands, softly passing through his back. He didn't do or say anything, curious to see how far she would go - knowing that they could be caught in the act at any moment. Marcia didn't speak either, but pressed her lips against the skin of his shoulders and the back of his neck, time and again. Damn Marcia. He liked that, he wanted that. Who had been tired? Him? No, no. That was a mistake, he was more than fine. Perhaps they could be quick... A knock on the end of the secret passage. Perhaps not. Loghain put on a clean linen shirt and opened the door for Cyril.

He brought a scroll under his arm, and looked a bit concerned. Loghain invited him to sit by the fire on one of the armchairs. With a gesture he offered Marcia to sit on the other one, and he remained on his feet. 

“You were right” Cyril said “You asked _where is_ Onterre, and you were right. As you know, I dealt with your brother and the Inquisition as ambassador for the Empire. Of course, that position allowed me to access all the information regarding the Inquisition’s presence in Orlais. Your brother undertook great efforts to stabilize this nation, specially in Dales. He even intervened personally there”

“I know that, for months I was assigned to the Exalted Plains myself”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t admire you more, my lady” he said. “But I do not wish to get too carried away. One of those areas in the Dales was a region commonly known as the Emerald Graves, and happened to hold the ancestral estate of d’Onterres, a splendorous chateau among the woods. Your brother worked along a man named Fairbanks and pacified the region, cleared out of a rogue faction of deserters and separatists called The Freemen of the Dales; and of course closed the fade rifts. A footnote in the reports that I had access to as imperial ambassador stated that your brother also cleared Chateau d’Onterre”

“Was it one of the places occupied by the Freemen?” she asked

“Not at all. It was occupied by the living dead, commanded by an arcane horror. To understand that, let me tell you a little story. My lady, you are the first one to understand how the gift of magic can affect a noble family, coming from one yourself. The daughter of the Onterres was a mage, but her parents kept her gift secret, believing that they could control her. Apparently, they tried everything, including bribing a corrupt templar, to no effort. She contacted a demon, and the demon’s influence over her grew stronger, little by little. The records found in Lord d’Onterre’s journal reveal that they had dealings with a mysterious mage, that assured them that using certain artifact and a box would do the trick. Everything went wrong. She died, and her body became possessed. The arcane horror commanding the living corpses was no one but herself, or what was left of the poor girl. The corpses were her family, servants and everyone that was unfortunate enough to be there. Your brother, aided by that Tevinter mage he always carried around with him, cleared the house and killed the arcane horror. The remaining d’Onterres never reclaimed the chateau, for obvious reasons”

“And you believe that’s what she meant when she told Allain Boivin that?” she said.

“Yes, I do. It is no secret that the Inquisition relied upon intelligence from the Red Jennies from time to time, and even helped each other on several occasions. Maybe the Jennies knew of that and saw an opportunity to establish a base of operations there”

“Makes sense” she said. 

“Time is of the essence” the Duke continued. “You have to beat him there, or at least follow closely so he doesn’t slip away with the documents. You will leave first thing tomorrow. I arranged the fastest ship possible for you to cross the Walking Sea to the Dales. As the territory of the Emerald Graves will be unknown to you, I have brought you a gift from my collection”

He turned to Loghain and handed him the scroll. Loghain examined it. It was a beautifully detailed map of the region. 

“I am sorry we don’t have more time to prepare” he added.

“I trust Denam is still married to a chamber-pot?” Marcia asked. 

“He’s even developed a fever, the poor man” Cyril chuckled. “But that also means that you two are on your own. I cannot send my men to accompany you, for obvious reasons. Besides, we are fortunate that the Jennies believe you work for the Ghislains and not with me, we need to keep that up”

“Of course” Loghain said. “Still, it would be nice to know what we’ll be recovering, exactly”

“On my honor, you’ll have answers when I have the documents”

Loghain decided to believe him. He was too tired for all of that shit anyway.  



	10. The Emerald Graves

The trip was uneventful, except for a mild sea storm on the Walking Sea. It lasted only a night, and then the waters were calm for the rest of the journey. They arrived at the Dales in a few days, and witnessed the change in landscape. When they entered a lush, vibrant wood, they knew that they were, at last, in the Emerald Graves. Loghain had never seen trees such as these; tall and ancient, with an air of reverence to them. Marcia was transfixed by the beauty of the forest, but a pinch of sadness shadowed her gaze.

“Legend tells one tree for each fallen at the Exalted March. The elves were decimated. It wasn’t holy war; it was good old Orlesian expansionism”

Loghain would grant that she was partly right, but he wanted to tell her that the elves weren’t exactly helpless victims, that they had posed a real threat; the attack on Red Crossing, the capture of Mortsimmard and the sacking of Val Royeaux proved that. Of course, none of that justified the way that they had been treated ever since their final defeat, but idealizing them seemed to him a bit childish. Still, he would never tell her. He wouldn’t want to spoil her infatuation and besides, he suspected that even if she tried to ignore it, deep down, she knew. 

They stopped along one of the roads and Loghain looked at the map once again. According to it, they were in the western end of the picture, still in the southern region. The southern half didn’t seem to be too wild; there were roads and signs of Orlesian presence and buildings everywhere. Presumably, in these parts, they would be safe, although it wouldn’t hurt to watch out for wildlife, for packs of wolves populated the whole area. The northern half was quite a different thing. There were no roads, no civilized presence; just twisted woods, elven ruins and, apparently, giants, bears, brontos and even rumors of a high dragon lurking somewhere in the deepest end of the forest. Loghain was not looking forward to face a dragon. The one he saw at the Battle of River Dane, the Archdemon and that thing at Adamant Fortress were more than enough draconic experiences for a lifetime, thank you very much. He sighed. Chateau d’Onterre was further to the northeast, on the other side of the map.   


For hours, they marched. Loghain had started to look for a suitable place to make camp. There was no way they would reach the chateau that day. Theoretically, they could, if they travelled at night, but he wanted to avoid that. The palace was abandoned in the middle of nowhere and too close to the wild regions for comfort. No, they would only trek by daylight. Marcia agreed. She wasn’t too keen on getting lost in the dark.

“We wouldn’t get lost” he murmured. “We have a map, and we have me” 

“Sure thing” she replied, teasing him.

They reached the Silver Falls almost by dusk. They made camp near its base, on a spot protected by an arching of the stone wall behind them. It wasn’t as secure as a cave, but at least if it rained they wouldn’t get drenched. Also, he wouldn’t risk getting into the wrong cave. The last thing they wanted was to fight a pack of wolves or a grizzly bear. They unpacked their bedrolls, and searched for wood. Marcia lit the campfire, and Loghain unpacked some of their rations. As the food was cooking, if that could be called cooking, he observed her setting up wards around their improvised site. When it was done, they ate a frugal dinner, in silence. When they finished, they lingered around the fire a little longer. It was a nice night, and a cool breeze ran through the leaves, up in the branches, above. That pleasant sound blended with the flowing water and the crepitating sounds of the bonfire. Loghain was invaded by a feeling of peacefulness. 

“Sometimes I miss Nathaniel and Oghren” she suddenly whispered.

“Nathaniel I’d understand, he was civil and practical, a good warden… but Oghren? You can’t be serious!” he said. He sort of missed them too, truth be told.  


“He wasn’t that bad, if you ignored all his wrong areas”

“Indeed, to appreciate him you really have to overlook a lot of things”

“Just like you” she jested, and giggled.

“You are all wits today, aren’t you?”

She smiled at him and he felt like his heart was lifted. They went to sleep soon after.

By sunrise, they continued their journey. The way up circumvented the stone wall, and then followed near its edge, then crossed the river that jumped at the falls. They stopped to look at them from up there, and saw a hooded figure down, on the road. 

“That must be him, we must hurry” he said.

The chateau wasn’t far. Loghain pointed at a rock formation on one of the flanks near the entrance. Marcia followed him there, and they waited behind some bushes. He wasn’t going in blind; no, they would wait for him and follow closely. 

“Whatever happens with my brother, I don’t want you to intervene. This is my fight” she whispered.

Loghain frowned; he didn’t like the idea, but nodded. It was personal for her, after all. They waited in silence, and after a while, he crossed the river, following the path to the palace. He looked around, and then just entered. They waited a couple of minutes and then went inside as well.

The vestibule was dark, chandeliers off and curtains closed. Loghain saw a dim gleam to their left and went there. Some of the curtains were open, and some light from the outside illuminated a white marble staircase. As they went closer, he could hear some footsteps and a voice, upstairs. Marcia must have heard them as well, for she rushed ahead. Loghain went after her, and when he finally climbed all the steps, the scene before him struck him. They were in a vast and rich library. Sunlight came in directly from the roof. Maybe in the past glass covered it, but in that moment it was just open to the sky above, and hanging vines and ivy crept in from the outside. A blonde elven girl, with a strange haircut and even a stranger outfit, was aiming with her bow at them, from the farthest side of the room. In a point somewhere in the middle between her and Marcia, stood his brother, his face still covered, right under the sunlight. It was quite a dramatic scene. 

“Stand down, Sera” he said. “I am sure we can work this out like civilized people”

“Arse tits” she said. "But if they try anything funny, the get arrows”

“Sure we can avoid useless confrontation. Whatever the Ghislains are paying, I can do better. Name your price, sellsword” he told Marcia.

She unsheathed her steel sword, and charged at him. He knew that. He simply knew that! Loghain didn’t move though, and the former Inquisitor seemed to understand that it was a fight just between them two; so he told Sera to stay out of it. She cursed and complained, and stayed vigilant, her bow ready for anything. They fought for a while, but it was clear that, if it was going to be just a clash of weapons, he would win. She wasn’t using her barrier, and there was no way she could dodge and evade the swings from his greatsword for long if she didn’t put that spell up and used her spirit blade. Eventually, she grew tired and she did exactly that. And then the unexpected happened. Loghain wasn’t sure what happened, he saw the Inquisitor do  _something_ and Marcia stagger back and fall to the ground. She didn’t stand up. He ran towards her, but Sera shot a couple of arrows close to him. 

“Next one will be aimed at your groin” she threatened.

Seriously?

“Don’t kill him just yet” he said, and then turned to Marcia “Apostates now? The Ghislains must be really desperate. Unfortunately for you, I know how to deal with rogue mages”

“Stop!” Loghain yelled.   


“Now you want to talk things through? Too little, too late, I’d say”

“You don’t want to do this” he insisted.

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s an apostate and a mercenary. She leads a dangerous life, and sometimes life catches up with you”

“Maker’s breath!” Loghain revealed his face.  


“Andraste preserve me…”


	11. A family reunion

“Loghain” he gasped. “But you were dead… And if that’s you, that can only mean... Oh Maker, oh Maker, shit!”

He knelt down beside Marcia, removed her mask and left out a hushed cry. She was very pale, and clearly shaken, like all force had been taken away from her. 

“Sera, please, put your weapon away” he said.

“Sure, for now. But they better do some explaining” she replied, frowning at Loghain. Yes, yes. Alright. He got it, he was used to the kinds of looks she was giving him. Sera didn't like him. The traitor teyrn and all that... So very trying, really.  


Loghain aided Marcia back on her feet, took her lyrium flask and helped her drink some drops. She seemed to feel better, and just silently stared at his brother, that had just taken his hood off, revealing his face to them.

“You of all people” she cried. “ _You_ became a templar? You’re not even religious! All this is a cruel joke…”

Loghain finally understood what had happened. Marcia was obviously not expecting him to use nullifying skills on her, and was caught off guard. 

“I am not a templar-templar. I received templar training because my advisors were worried my combat prowess weren’t particularly outstanding”

“But why?”

“It was the practical thing to do, Marcia. We were fighting demons and Venatori mages after all”

“Becoming a templar is not a matter of pragmatism. It’s a calling!”

“I know that this must be hard for you, sister. I know what your templar training meant to you, I know that you were meant for this, not me, but life rarely gives us what we deserve. I am sorry”

“Shut your mouth, Adrian” she said.

“I am sorry” he repeated. “I am sorry for pushing you and mocking you every time. I am sorry for the way I behaved when your magic awoke. I am sorry for sending you away from me to the Exalted Plains when you joined the Inquisition in good faith. I am sorry for giving you the assignment that led you to be infected by the Blight, and having to send you away for good. Then a raven arrived, with news of your death… and now you are standing here. I don’t care how, I am just glad you are alive”

He held her. She tried to get away, but then she hugged him as well. When they separated, they both had tears running down their cheeks. 

"Come, let us find a place to sit and talk”

They followed him to a living room that was well preserved. 

“I have so many questions” he started.

“Yeah, me too” Sera said, from her corner. “For starters, why are you working for the Ghislains?”

“We are not working for them” Loghain replied. “We work with a third party”

“Ooooh, how mysterious” she mocked him. "You're failing at mysterious"  


“Business can wait” Adrian said. “Tell me, you left the Wardens, then?”

“In a manner of speaking” Marcia said.

“Do you even know what’s going on within the Order? There’s an internal war between some factions and Weisshaupt. If Loghain were to come back, sure he would help the situation. Others would follow him and…”

“Brother, we _aren’t_ wardens anymore”

“Yes but… wait. You mean in _that_ way”

She nodded. He didn’t ask how. Loghain guessed he knew better than to try to extract that kind of information out of them. They might not be wardens anymore, but they still held to their secrets.

“And you have been together ever since? I mean, I heard some rumors, but I didn’t really give them much credit…” 

“Simply put, those rumors about us were right” she said.

Sera let out a loud and joyful laugh.

“Choirgirl and Tyrant… Weird match. No, wait. It makes sense. Bet he makes her kneel and call him master”

And she laughed again.

“Oh, please! I am going to have nightmares” Adrian cried, horrified. 

Marcia cleared her throat.

“Moving on…” 

“Yes. So you left the wardens and became mercenaries?”

“No, Adrian. We became farmers, normal people; the kind that everyone ignores. We led a private and simple life for two years”

“And what the hell are you doing here?”

“We got into a bad situation; a life or death situation. These documents are our only way out”

“Ah, so no more friendly chit-chat?” he said, disappointed. 

“We just want to have our lives back. The sooner we talk this through, the better”

“But you were ready to fight your way out of this situation, back there. You knew it was me, of course”

“Allain Boivin. Could you be more obvious?” 

“I chose that name in your honor, in fact. In a strange, twisted way I suppose. Call me sentimental. But if you knew, why use a violent approach?”

“I was angry. I still am, a bit” she replied. “The heir of House Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor…”

“Not Inquisitor anymore”

“Whatever. And you run around with the Friends of Red Jenny, causing trouble and endangering everything – what you have accomplished, your life and our family’s good name?”

“The same could be said about yourself, sister. Still we all have our own justifications”

“Dammit, Adrian. Don’t you dare give me that”

“This is not a whim or pastime of mine. Do you even know what these documents are?”

“No, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know, not until they reach safe hands. I don’t want to risk the chance of agreeing with you. We need them”

Adrian remained silent, pensive. 

“You are not really listening to her, are you? She attacked first. You can't trust her!” Sera exclaimed. “We don’t even know who sent them!”

“Sera makes a fair point” he said.

“Look, brother, I am not going to pull the _if you’ve listened to me and let me help at Adamant none of this shit would be happening_ ”

“But you kind of are doing it”

“The thing is, we are bound by secrecy. I cannot prove that we don’t work for Vivienne and the Ghislains. But you know me, a bit. You know I’ve never liked her. I told you, as many others, that you should be very careful with her, that she was nothing but a charming snake”

“More like a bitch” Sera added.

“Indeed. Do you honestly believe I would do her bidding?”

“I… I suppose not” he admitted. “But don’t you have another way out? Couldn’t I help you? I still have many friends and allies that owe me favors”

“No. We are dead and wish to remain so. The more people that even knows a detail, the more in danger we’ll be. Let us handle this matter ourselves”

“Sera, give them to her”

“Are you crazy?! I get it, she’s your sister, you are happy she’s alive, everything is so pretty and butterflies. But it isn’t. Start connecting the dots. She must be the one at the party, the one that snatched poor Liniel. She was tortured until she gave up information about the warehouse, and then _disappeared_. And the night they raided our base, she killed four of our men. She found the log, and that’s how she knew it was you. If she wasn’t your sister she would’ve taken an arrow to the face”

“I already know that” he said.

“We were only defending ourselves! Your friends led us to a trap and attacked first”

“She doesn’t deny it!” Sera insisted.

“I’ll make it up to you and up to the Jennies. Just let me have this, please. If I reject her now, I know I will regret it my whole life. I don’t care what shit she’s pulled to get here. I failed her before, time and again, and I am not going to do so now. I am going to help her, whatever the cost”

Sera made an annoyed noise, walked to Marcia and with narrowed and hostile eyes, gave her the documents. 

“You owe me big time, you weeping soft-arse” she told Adrian. “And you are going to deliver”

Marcia carefully placed the papers in her backpack.

“Thank you, Adrian. I don’t know how to repay you” she said.

“There is no way you can possibly repay that, Marcia. It is beyond your power. Think about it as my gift to you”

A moment of silence.

“Tell me, is Dorian still a rebellious academic?” she asked.

“The one and only rebellious academic!” he chuckled.  


“Then allow me to give you something as a token of good faith” 

She took her research journal out of her bag and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“That is my life’s work” she said. “It’s proof that the Chantry assimilated and appropriated an ancient way of elven magic and twisted it, erasing any trace back to its origins. I researched the techniques of the knight-enchanters, since I was one myself, and found material and conclusive evidence that they were usurped from arcane warriors”

“Solas mentioned something like that… but you can actually prove it? And you want to give it up, pass it to Dorian? This is a very personal matter for you. Are you sure?”

“There’s no use for me to keep it. If the work is to see the light, someone else has to do it for me. Besides, it is quite controversial. I bet he will love it. Just take it”

As soon as they left the chateau, Loghain passed an arm around her shoulders.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. It’s just…”

She wept in silence, and he held her. He didn’t know what to say.

“My brother acting so mature and magnanimous, and kicking my ass with his templar skills was unexpected and very humbling. I hate it. It wasn’t supposed to be like that”

“I know” he said, and kissed her forehead.

“I’ve made a fool of myself” she mumbled against his chest. 

“Nonsense” he reassured her. “It was simply out of your control”

“I hate that too”

“I know” 

“Except when you’re in control” she whispered.

“You are incorrigible”

They laughed and started their way back.


	12. Some answers

Cyril didn’t hide the delight he felt when he put his hands on the documents. He even regaled them with all manners of pretty and flattering words.

“No more pleasantries. Answers” Marcia said.

“I was getting there, dear. I was just enjoying the preliminaries; but since you are so eager, I’ll get to the heart of the matter. These documents are lists of names. Do you know what the Ben Hassrath is?”

“Sounds Qunari, but I have no idea”

“They’re spies and secret police. One of the pillars of their recent failed attempt at invasion was destabilizing the Empire from within. Is there a better way to do so that disrupting the Game? Clever, I'll give them that..."

“So the names are of Ben Hassrath agents, infiltrators?” Loghain asked.  


“Oh, no, nothing of that sort. It's something far more destructive: a list of bards and agents in service of the greatest Orlesian houses, mine included of course. Imagine what would happen if the names and true allegiances of everyone were to be exposed. All apparent trust, unity and cooperation would fall, like an illusion. The elite would stop bickering among them in secret and move to open war for control. Again. We wouldn't survive another civil war. Or imagine that they could be turned or _influenced_. That’s why the list couldn’t fall into the wrong hands”

“So Emperor Gaspard didn’t want the list to fall to the Ghislains”

“And Grand Enchanter Vivienne. Her name and that family are so intertwined that’s hard to know where one ends and the other starts. She’s amassing too much influence, and she has allies in both the Council of Heralds and the highest ranks of the Chantry. Puppets would be a more fitting word than allies, to be honest. Her hunger for power was once refreshing and an inspiration for us all; nowadays she’s becoming a nuisance”

“If the documents are sealed, I guess you had a source that informed about its contents”

“Yes, a servant of the Ghislains was a follower of the Qun. When apprehended and questioned, with the right motivation, he gave up all information. The Ghislains were the ones to retrieve the original documents, and kept them at their state. Luckily, I had an agent among the service and tipped me off”

“The elven servant, Liniel”

“Yes” he said.

“And it turned out that she was with the Friends of Red Jenny”

“Yes, a double agent. Saying that I was very disappointed with her would be an understatement”

Marcia lowered her voice.

“Is she…”

“Dead, dear? Yes, she was executed, eventually. All bards and spies know the risks involved, and they know the price of double crossing”

His words were void of all emotion, and Loghain understood that these lives were just a transaction for him. 

“I know what you are thinking; I am cold. Well, to do my job I must detach myself from many things. I don’t have the luxury to be an idealist; my feet must be on the ground at all times”

“I didn’t mean to sound like I was passing judgement” she said. “It’s just…”

“You wonder if I would trade your lives for the sake of pragmatism, if the situation would have me choose? Let me put your mind to rest. I don’t play sacrifice or trade with the lives of those who swore fealty to me; but I suffer no betrayal. The punishment is death. I believe it’s reasonable enough. So, you see, you have nothing to worry about”

Loghain wondered if keeping her brother’s involvement out of their reports qualified as betrayal. They made no deals nor shared information with him or the Jennies; they just followed the orders to recover the documents, right? And it was very likely that Cyril would never discover it. He pondered all that, with his gaze fixed on the fireplace, and then realized that they were in complete silence. He looked around and found Cyril staring at him.

“Maybe you have something to add?” he asked him.

It felt like he had read his mind. Of course, he knew that it wasn’t possible, so he kept a straight face and replied:

“In fact, I do. I have some questions of my own”

“By all means, ask”

“If the Ghislains knew what the documents were and had them in their custody, why weren’t they used? They are still sealed”

“Ah. I was wondering when we would get there. They broke the seal and then remade it. Why? Because they couldn’t access its contents. They lacked the appropriate cypher to make sense of them”

“Who is in possession of that cypher, then?” Loghain insisted.

“The Emperor himself… and, presumably, your brother, Marcia. They were retrieved during the Exalted Council. Vivienne and the Ghislains couldn’t openly ask Gaspard to casually borrow it, for obvious reasons, but we feared that she would try to get in contact with the Inquisitor; and she did. Whether he gave her the cypher or not, it remains to be seen”

“How would you know?” she asked.

“Oh, the fake documents we put in their place? The code will surely reveal their contents. We used the original code to make a… list of our own. You see, it…” Cyril stopped and tried to contain a chuckle “It will have the Ghislains spending coin sending scouts all over the Empire, in a meaningless hunt for nothing. Ah, it will be hilarious. You must stick around to see that” 

“So you are convinced my brother will give her the cypher?”

“Well, if he doesn’t I will certainly make arrangements so it falls on her hands. I spent quite a while writing those papers and preparing that special treasure hunt”

Loghain wondered if too much time hunting for the Friends of Red Jenny had made the Duke grow fond of such pranks or if he had always been like that. 

“Well, your grace, I would have never taken you for the pranking type” Marcia said.

“I was very inspired”

As potentially amusing as it could be, Loghain wasn’t very interested in the prank. He wanted to push the conversation forward.

“So what now? What about us?” he said, and came out a bit harsh. “Are we finished? Is this the job we came here to do?”

“Ah, you are worried of what will become of you? Or maybe the thought of leaving us so soon makes you blue? No matter. We still have work to do ahead”

“You said you could help us with our situation” 

“And I am a man of my word, Loghain Mac Tir. Yours is not an easy situation to overcome, but I am doing my best to try to figure a suitable way out of it”

“Trying!?” he said, his voice in his most severe tone.

Marcia took his hand, and he remembered to breathe. Cyril didn’t seem upset.

“There’s no need to get rough, but I do understand your worries. For now, you are still working for me. Your next job is to accompany me and make sure I make it safely to Halamshiral”

“Halamshiral?” she opened her eyes wide. “We are going to the Winter Palace?”

“Well, of course dear. We have some sensitive documents to deliver personally to Gaspard. We will plan our next steps there”

“What about Denam? Are you bringing a convicted rogue templar into the Winter Palace, your Grace?” Marcia said. “Some members of the court would surely recognize him; many dignitaries were present at his trial and sentencing. What if someone recognizes him?”

“Now that wouldn’t be acceptable, wouldn’t it?” he said. “I am sending Denam back to Ansburg”

“You can actually do that?”

“If Lorryn wants his lineage acknowledged and officially restored, he’ll have to play by my rules”

Marcia narrowed her eyes, and Loghain knew that she was thinking exactly what he was thinking.

“So… You could’ve sent him back all this time”

“Yes”

“So why didn’t you do it?” 

“It would’ve been stupid of me to trust you right away, don’t you think? Denam was just a safeguard in case you proved unreliable, a card to be kept and played in the right moment, if things went south. Now there’s no need for me to keep him. Now we know that we can trust each other”

That conniving Orlesian fuck, thought Loghain, was ready to leash them if needed. Still, he was glad that they were on the same side, and he couldn’t fully fault him. He would’ve done the same thing. Hell, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t even have trusted Marcia and himself in the first place. So, all they’ve been through, apart from beneficial for Cyril, was a test and they passed. Or maybe he was still testing them. He didn’t buy his  _we can trust each other_ bullshit, that’s for sure, even if it was the easy thing to do. Marcia didn’t ask further about that. Maybe it was for the best. She kept quiet for a while, and then asked:

“But is Halamshiral safe for us? They say that even its walls have ears”

Cyril smiled, as charming as ever. 

“Then we will speak softly”


	13. Cparice

The journey to the Winter Palace was peaceful one. Not even once the Duke’s personal guards had to unsheathe their blades in defense or warning. Loghain wondered why Cyril had tasked them to accompany him, if he also brought a full entourage, but didn’t ask. Maybe they would discuss their further involvement in his plans once at the Palace. Maybe he just wanted to have them around, show them to the Emperor.Loghain Mac Tir, the scourge of the Fereldan Rebellion, now working to his best interests! Ugh. When discussing that with Marcia, she simply said that they would do whatever necessary to build a secure life for their own – even if it meant liking the Emperor’s wyvern-leather boots. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Their arrival was not welcomed with any formality; the guards left for the barracks and they ventured deeper into the Palace. Dressed formally, they just sort of blended in with the rest of dignitaries and nobles that wondered around Halamshiral’s gardens and gilded halls. Cyril was stopped by several members of the Court that tried to get his attention, and he gracefully gave it to them. When asked about Loghain and Marcia, he answered that they were his guests, merchants from the Free Marches, trading partners of his. It was the same cover story that was used at the Ghislain’s masquerade, and no one seemed to disbelieve it. They had no reason to do so. Once free from his social obligations, he led them to the guest wing. They walked until they reached a secluded hallway. He stopped, and whispered:

“These are my quarters. And that ones there are yours. They are internally connected, for we must be inconspicuous. Now, you are going in, some servants will deliver your bags and chests, and then you are going to behave like a couple of Marcher merchants that are just awestruck with Halamshiral’s beauty and riches. Let yourselves be seen acting like… provincial people”

“What are you going to do? Are you going to see the Emperor?” Marcia asked.

“No, I am meeting with my fellow members of the Council of Heralds. I’ll come to you tonight. Just try to enjoy yourselves”

As expected, their room was lavish. The bed was not of carved wood like the one they shared at the Montfort’s estate. This one was made of carved white marble and golden decorations. 

“That bed is too much” Marcia murmured “What if I bang my head against one of these… whatever these pointy things are? I don’t want to be killed by some tacky Orlesian furniture!”

“My thoughts exactly” he said.

“Do you think the Emperor sleeps in one like that?”

“No, I’m sure his is bigger and way more dramatic” he replied.

“At least the rest of the chambers are not so bad, if you ignore the blue-white-gold color scheme that seems to be all over the place… It’s a bit repetitive”

They spent the rest of the day behaving like tourists, and nobody seemed to pay much attention to them. Marcia had fun finding and throwing  _caprice_ coins in the pond. Some ladies cheered at her when she did.

“Oh, how delightful that you partake in our traditions” said one of them. “Not all visitors are versed in our culture”

Her mask reminded Loghain of a butterfly. They shared a drink with her and her friends for a while, and spoke of nothing of importance: Gaspard’s choices for the gardens and decor, the new season of the Opera, some bard that had become quite the sensation… They weren’t asked questions about their background. Loghain suspected that they just didn’t care. Maybe they just saw an adorable couple of small-town foreigners that were mesmerized by Halamshiral. It was probably both of those things, but what mattered is that their cover was intact.

When evening came, they went back to their quarters. Dinner was delivered there by one of the servants. It was a big platter, with bread, some cheeses, smoked ham and fruit. A bottle of fine local wine was also provided. Marcia tried to give it back, but the servant insisted that his orders were clear. She thanked him and dismissed him. They filled their glasses with water and ate in silence. The expensive bottle was left alone, in a corner.

“Are you going to…” she asked, her eyes fixed on a cheese wedge he hadn’t touched. 

“Go ahead”

She devoured that piece of strong and stinky Orlesian cheese with fruition. How she could enjoy such a thing was still a mystery to him. 

After dinner, they waited. Marcia lied on the bed, and poked the marble with her fingertips, making an improvised rhythm. Loghain took out their blades from the trunk and honed them with a sharpening stone, slowly and carefully, sitting by the fire. He realized that rhythmic sound of her fingertips against the bed had stopped. He looked to her direction from the corner of his eyes, without turning his head, and caught her observing him silently. He didn’t make any move that would suggest that he had noticed. He had to repress a grin. She still stared when she thought he didn’t know. Heartwarming.   


Eventually, they heard a knock on the inner door. Loghain opened it, and Cyril entered their room.

“Sweet Andraste, that’s one horrible bed” was the first thing he said.

“And potentially dangerous” she added.

“Don’t say that dear, or I’ll be forced to move you to my quarters for your own safety” 

“That’s very generous but won’t be necessary” Loghain intervened.

“My offer will stand, if you change your mind after bumping your heads hard against the stone”

“We won’t let the bed win that battle” he said.

“Fine” Cyril acquiesced “I’ve heard you were busy hunting for caprice coins. Did you make a wish as well?”

“Of course” Marcia replied. “But it’s a secret”

“As it should be. But enough small talk. I’m glad you are still dressed presentably. Put on your masks and accompany me”

“Where to?”

“A meeting with Gaspard, of course. He cannot give an official audience for this matter. Least of all to you, no offense”

“None taken. Truly” Loghain said, and meant it.

“A secret meeting in the still of the night at Halamshiral, amidst a court intrigue, secret identities, masks and whispers… Sounds like something out of a novel!” Yes. Marcia was a bit too much excited about all that. Loghain gave her a _really?_ look. “You think it’s all just stories until you get attacked by some creeps in harlequin outfits” she insisted, just for the sake of it. “Tell him, your grace”

“It’s all true” Cyril nodded. “And then some”

They left the guest wing, crossed the grand foyer and turned right, to a hall full of bust and statues. Then, Cyril led them through an unlocked door to what seemed to be a trophy hall, full of all sorts of wild beasts. In the middle, a fully grown wyvern, its eyes so bright, its pose so natural and fierce that it almost looked alive. Soon they realized that it was only an antechamber to a study. Across the desk, waiting for them was Gaspard himself. After introducing them, Cyril gave him the documents. 

“Of all the things I’ve never imagined I would see is the Hero of River Dane in Halamshiral. Tell me, what do you think of it?”

Loghain kept a stern face.

“Honestly, I find it over-the-top. Some of the stuff is simply tacky”

Marcia and Cyril paled. The Emperor stared at him silently for some seconds that felt like forever. That was it, thought Loghain, that’s the way he was going to go. It was probably worth it. 

“Yes, I agree. I prefer a more austere aesthetic; but the rest of the Court likes their decadent excesses and I don’t have time for redecorating. Almost everything stays as Celene left it” then he turned to Marcia “Ah, my lady, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Good old General Morton always spoke very fondly of you. He would invite me to visit him at Ostwick, but as he visited every now and then, I never did. So, you see, it’s like I know you a bit even before meeting you. Then news of his hunting accident arrived. Thedas lost a good man that day, and you, lady Trevelyan, were the one that lost the most. I am so sorry”

He spoke gracefully, with an agreeable deep voice and a courteous demeanor. He might be defined as charming even. There was a but, though.Of course, just of course Gaspard had to be friends with Marcia's former lover and benefactor. That was just great and not awkward at all _._  


“I… Thank you, your highness”

“Now, if you please, explain how did you end up here?”

Loghain was brief, and partial. They were being blackmailed and used as pawns, and then they met Cyril. Gaspard obviously noticed that he was keeping information from him, but didn’t seem to care. 

“I don’t wish to importunate you further at an hour so late. Go have a good night sleep. We will speak again” he said.

For someone that had just met the Emperor of Orlais, Marcia was surprisingly casual and emotionless about it. She went to sleep like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and had the same attitude the next morning. Loghain noticed that she acted a bit detached. 

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” he asked her.

“Not really. Why? Do you want to talk?”

“You have been acting a bit aloof”

“Why? Is it because I didn’t lose my shit over Gaspard?” she said

“No, that’s not what I meant, I just want to know if there’s something wrong”

He sat on the bed, observing her come and go through the room, getting dressed.

“No, everything’s fine. Are you going to ask me whatever you wanted to ask me or should I play guess?” she said.

“It’s not like I have a lot of questions, but it strikes me that you’ve never mentioned that your general was close with Gaspard de Chalons. You know he fought against the Fereldan rebels, right?”

“Yes, I know… Look, Morton respected him and even admired him as tactician. Still, I was like a thorn at his backside, always reminding him that I believed that other figures were the ultimate tacticians. We would get into heated debates about it, good times” she gave him a meaningful glance, and he understood that by _other figures_ she meant him. It almost made him blush. Then her voice sharpened “Still, I fail to see how that particular piece of information would be of any importance to you”

“Not even its value as an anecdote?” he asked.

She buttoned up her boot and exhaled.

“Do you really want all the anecdotes, Loghain? Down to every lurid detail? Do you really think so?”

She worded it as a cold threat, and that attitude felt like taking a punch to the stomach. She realized. She knelt beside him and took his hand, and pressed her lips against hit.

“Forgive me” her eyes filled with tears; still none escaped down her cheeks “These last months have been a nightmare. And I feel like I am.. falling. Please, forgive me”

“Marcia, there's nothing to forgive. It’s all right, I understand. It just pains me that you don’t want to talk about it”

“I don’t want to bother you”

“For the love of Andraste, we are married. Sort of. And you always bother me anyways” he was joking of course “Come, sit with me and let’s talk”

She rose from her knees and sat beside him

“Ever since Lorryn unmasked us, I can’t stop thinking that this is the punishment I deserve. I was having it too easy, and this is a fair retribution. This is the price of my wickedness; the Maker’s will. Still, I also believe that the punishment was not the end itself; that if somehow endure and overcome it, it would mean my forgiveness. But all I’ve done was realized how much of my past self I still am. Every major player we’ve encountered was a constant reminder of that past, of my sins. Lorryn, Vivienne, Cyril, my brother and now even Gaspard. And I feel like we are being swallowed by fate, into a dark hole, and that there’s no escape, no way to outsmart this, no redemption. Every day I fool myself into believing that all that we do will lead us to freedom; but all we did was change one master for another. This one promises much and treats us like equals, so we lower our guards; but I wonder for how long he would humor us?”

Loghain held her and told her that they will eventually solve it.

“I am sorry” she said. “I didn’t want to hurt you with words. Ever since I met you all I’ve ever wanted was to make you proud. And get on your nerves. In equal parts” she sobbed and laughed.

“I’ve noticed”

“It’s just. I cannot give you what you want this time. I cannot be the same person. That is my test”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean Cyril”

“What of him?” he asked.

“I’ve tried, I am sorry. I know that you want something to happen. I enjoy his company and wits and flirting very much, but I cannot go further and give you what you wish. I cannot let myself follow that path ever again. I suppose what I am saying is don’t share me with him. Don’t make me do it”

He was baffled.

“Marcia, I would never make you do anything of that sort against your will” 

“It’s not that. It’s not that I wouldn’t be willing. That’s the problem. But above all, what I crave is self-control; and I need to choose accordingly. So please, help me. Don’t push me towards it, don’t let me lose myself”

“I promise” he said softly.

She curled up around him, and they fell onto the mattress. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. 

“You give yourself too little credit, you know?” he told her. “And you give _us_ even less. We will prevail. Besides, you have the _ultimate tactician_ by your side”

She gave him a soft kick, and complained.

“Don’t mock me”

“Hush. These were your words” he said.

“So, any brilliant strategy, sir?”

“No, but if you keep calling me that I am going to get very… distracted”

“Call you what, sir?”

He laughed. 

“Don’t bee mischievous. We have work to do”


	14. A maze

They met with Cyril in the gardens, at the entrance of a huge hedge maze, far from the buildings, in the fields surrounding the palace.

“After you, dear” he told Marcia. 

They entered the labyrinth. 

“We can speak freely. This maze is officially closed, so it’s only us here” 

“Do you know the way out?” Marcia asked.

“Of course, but where’s the fun in walking straight to the end? Let’s get lost”

They walked around, turned here and there, among high botanical walls.

“So what’s the Emperor going to do with the names?” Loghain asked after a while.

“That’s for the Emperor to decide”

“But you must have a guess”

“He probably won’t make any direct action. Orlais cannot afford to look divided. Still, it’s likely that he will use the knowledge to strengthen his power”

“Are you not worried? Your spies will be in that list”

“Not in the slightest”

They kept strolling in silence for a while.

“So I’ve been thinking” Marcia was the one to break the silence. “Lorryn wants your favor because you are in the Council of Heralds; and the Council is the highest authority when titles are disputed. That must mean that his claim has been contested or that he expects that it will be so…”

“Continue, dear” he said.

“Maybe the simplest course of action is to sabotage his plans”

“Why would I want to do that?” Cyril asked.

“Why wouldn’t you? You got what you wanted. Why would you pollute Orlesian nobility with some minor blood from the Free Marches? And please, don’t act as you don’t look down on us”

“Not all of us do that, and not on all Marchers anyway. And frankly, I still haven’t got all that I wanted. As I told you before coming here, there’s still much for us to do”

“So you would give him what he wants? What did he promise you?”

“It is very simple, my dear. The one that will contest his claim is sworn to one of my rivals. Lorryn promised his pledge to me. The land in dispute can become very valuable for its resources. I want it secured”

“But… what about us?” she asked, her voice low.

“Can you counter Lorryn’s offer? What could you possibly give me in return?”

Marcia blushed, but it wasn’t a blush from flattery. Loghain had noticed long ago that when she was very, very displeased but couldn’t express it, she would flush and her eyes would water. In that moment, that meant that she was going to explode. Cyril was walking ahead and didn’t see her face though.

“The answer to the first question is no; there’s no way you can come up with a better offer. The answer to the second one is up to you… but for that you need a third question. Is there an alternative way that would satisfy you and me both?”

Marcia seemed to let go a bit of her tension. 

“I want those resources, and I will have them, one way or another. After getting to know you though, it would pain me to obtain them in a way that would perpetuate your inconvenient situation. I do not wish for you to suffer more abuses. Believe me when I say that I am fond of you. I understand, as long as Lorryn’s influence can reach you, you’ll never be free. I would also understand if you wished to… settle the matter for good. If I had my demands met, I wouldn’t interfere. I would even help you in return for your service” he turned to them “Do we understand each other?”

“So what do you need in order to secure an alternative?” Loghain asked.

“Nothing much yet. Swear that you will do whatever I ask of you in order to achieve it, that's a good start”

“You can’t be serious!” Loghain exclaimed. “That’s a lot to take on faith. We’ve been living on faith for far too long”

“Do you think I am not taking any risks as well? I am risking more than you. Double-crossing a noble after agreeing to a favor? Do you know how important the flow of favors is, and how much it could be affected if Lorryn’s downfall were to be linked to me, the one that was supposed to sponsor him? My credibility would be destroyed; the value of my word would amount to nothing. And dealing in secret with you – no offense, I see nothing wrong here, but most of my peers would disagree. If things were to go wrong, I would be made a pariah. Not even Gaspard could change that. I need the certainty that you will not retreat. And I will swear that I will help you make your lives your own once more”

They discussed things for a bit, and in the end, the three of them exchanged oaths and shook hands. 

“For now, the next steps are my problem. In the meantime, I’d suggest that you make yourselves useful to Gaspard. He won’t ask for any favor of you directly, but if you were to offer your services… Imagine an Emperor’s gratitude. He could protect you; even clear your names if for any reason they were made public. A safeguard such as that is not to be overlooked”

“We don’t want to get to the point when we will need that” Loghain said.

“Tomorrow at midnight he will be alone in the library”

Loghain was about to complain, but Marcia intervened.

“We will be there”

“Let me know how that goes” he said “Oh, but enough of that. We should be enjoying our little stroll”

At first Loghain felt uncomfortable, but rational thinking about it all and the atmosphere raised his spirits quickly. The quietude, the fresh air and the light scent of flowers, present throughout the labyrinth, made the experience quite enjoyable. They made a stop at the very heart of it. There was a tranquil fountain there, with lotuses and water lilies, and some benches covered by canopies. On one of the seats rested a platter with refreshments. Cyril cracked open a bottle of wine, and raised a glass.

“For us” he simply said.

After a while, he asked them for stories. 

“Tell me something you did when you were wardens. Something exciting!” he said.

“Well, most of it was pretty disgusting to be honest” she replied.

“But you two met as wardens, am I right?”

“Partially right” Loghain said. “She was unconscious when I met her. She was sick with the blight, and the Inquisitor asked me to take her in, put her through the Joining. She didn’t have much of a saying in that”

He stroked her shoulder. 

“She gave me quite the shock; hers was a… difficult Joining. For a moment I thought I was too late. But she was made of the right stuff, and pulled trough”

“And when did passion go up in flames?”

Marcia burst into laughter. 

“Oh, so you just want all the salacious stories, uh?”

“I want no other kind”

“Well, it took quite some time. We weren’t exactly in an equal position, and that always makes things complicated. And we didn’t exactly see eye to eye at first” she said. “Then at Weisshaupt he asked me to accompany him back to Ferelden. He had been promoted to Warden-Constable. The Anderfels were awful, so how could I say no to a change of scenery? Bit by bit we got to spend more time together and also learned how to not get on each other’s throats. We were getting to know each other, especially thanks to an incident that involved a desire demon and both of us trapped in the Fade”

“That sounds like the beginning of a steamy novel”

“Yes, it does, but it was nothing of that sort. He was the one that got me out of there and in the process he saw something. Later he had the brilliant idea that we should train together. Alone. In the woods. Picture that!”

“There was a reason to that. I didn’t want to hurt her pride by kicking her ass in front of the soldiers at the keep”

“Sounds like a feeble excuse” Cyril said. “So what happened?”

“Nothing. It wasn’t an excuse. He just mentored me, and he did it very professionally. My form improved and we both became closer, but nothing happened”

“So tell me, when and how did it happen?”

Loghain wasn’t keen on discussing the details. There was so much about their fears, sorrows and insecurities. Marcia came to the rescue, her way. She finished her glass, gave him a playful smile and said:

“Oh, well. One morning I wanted to prove that I was ready to take him in fair combat. So I challenged him. He asked me that if I was so sure why I would want to duel him alone; I replied that I didn’t want to make him look bad in front of his men. And so we fought, for a long time. We hit each other hard, and eventually we ended up on the ground, unarmed. You know, the one who get to be on top is usually the one to win those brawls”

Cyril giggled when she said  _on top_ . Loghain wondered who was taking the liquor worse: Marcia the storyteller or Cyril that suddenly giggled at such words like an adolescent boy. Still, it was fun to watch.

“So you see, it was a fight for control. At first he got me, and he told me to surrender. When I refused, he wasn’t gentle. But I was younger and more agile. I got on top of him. We were a sight to see, covered in dirt and sweat, exhausted and still fighting. I am sure I had a broken lip by then. He overpowered me again, and suggested, once more, that I submitted. I told him to fuck off and fought dirty, so I was back on him, and at that time, he couldn’t get me off him. I had him. It was then that I saw something different in his ice-cold eyes, and maybe mine betrayed me as well. And it was amidst all that aggression that it happened. It felt so natural, like it was the only reasonable end to our little duel. A passionate kiss”

Cyril was visibly thrilled. He had swallowed her story, without question.

“How very electrifying! I wouldn’t have expected any less of you”

Marcia smirked. The Duke asked for another anecdote, and Loghain told him about Dworkin, the dwarf demolitionist. Soon after, they started the way back. Cyril assured them that he was all right, that he still knew how to get them out of that maze. He walked a bit ahead, and Loghain took the opportunity to whisper in her ear.

“So, you had me, huh? Nice tale”

Eventually, Cyril found the way out, and they returned to the palace. Once in their chambers, Loghain pushed her on the bed and kissed her. He took off her boots, for he realized that she was still wearing them. Once he did that, he saw that she had fallen asleep, her cheeks still pink from the wine. He moved her so she could be comfortable and let her nap. He wasn’t as affected as her, so he kept himself entertained checking the tomes from the bookshelf. A volume on military history caught his attention, so he sat by the window and just immersed himself in it. 


	15. Midnight at the royal library

Marcia woke up after the sun had set. She complained a bit because he had let her sleep, but she wasn’t too serious about it. He had arranged some cushions and blankets on the floor to sit by the fireplace, and was reading with his back leaning against the couch. She took another book and sat with him. Like that, reading in silence, they just waited for time to pass.  


When nearing midnight, they left their chambers and sneaked into the grand library. Everything was quiet, and in semi-darkness. Beams of moonlight came through the large windows between rows of bookshelves and reading tables. Loghain caught a glimpse, a wisp of warm light, far at the back of the room. That must be a candle or a lantern, he thought. They followed, and, when they got closer, saw that the light was, indeed, a lantern; it hanged from a hook on the wall, next to a door. Loghain put his hand on the door knob, and noticed that it was unlocked. He turned to Marcia and she shrugged. He opened the door to reveal another study. Gaspard was there, casually arranging the volumes on one of the many shelves that covered the walls. Loghain just wondered how many studies he actually had. 

“Ah, good evening” Gaspard said, when he noticed them. “What brings you to my reading corner?”

Loghain looked at Marcia. 

“Oh, we came looking for more narrative, Your Highness. It turns out that we already knew some of the books at our chambers, and the others were rather dull. So here we are, searching for something new and exciting to kill time”

Gaspard grinned and left out a courteous laughter.

“Anything in particular that would please you, Madam Trevelyan?”

“Your Highness knows his collection better than us, so he should be the one making a recommendation”

“I will, if that’s your wish. Take a seat”

They sat in front of the desk, and Gaspard did the same. He exhaled, and removed his mask. Marcia took off hers, and Loghain just followed their example.

“My dear madam, I am afraid that the hour is late and I am a bit tired; so you will indulge me and my bluntness. According to my intelligence reports, you both are somewhat familiar with the westernmost region of Orlais”

Marcia nodded, and he continued.

“One of my researchers has uncovered some texts pointing to a new location in the desert, an unexplored ruin. That’s not news at all of course. The area is vast, dangerous and mostly uncharted, as you well know. Still, there was something to that text. It provided accurate descriptions as to its location. To get to it, you will have to cross the Western Approach and travel even further into the part of the desert known as the Hissing Wastes. Still the same desert if you ask me. Now, you are surely wondering why I am so interested in some ruins in the middle of a wasteland. Apparently, what’s in there is the site for the test a weapon of some sort, back from the ancient Tevinter Imperium. A weapon much feared, but of which no other record has survived to our days”

“Why not send a team of researchers with some troops to acquire it?” she asked.

“I may despise the Game; but Orlais hasn’t grown tired of it yet, despite my best efforts. I don’t wish to involve the Arcane University or the Circle of Magi just yet; and surely I won’t send a detachment of my troops when I am waging war against Tevinter. No, this must be dealt with discreetly. You can have support from my scouts and access their caches and guard posts until you reach the Hissing Wastes. While officially ours, that place is de facto a no-man’s land. I don’t waste resources maintaining a presence there. Still, you would leave Halamshiral with more than enough for your journey there and back”

Loghain intervened. 

“Assume that we manage to find that weapon, and bring it back. Assume that it works as intended, and helps you with the fight against Tevinter. What will stop you from using it against Ferelden? It is no secret that you used to advocate for another invasion. I bled for that land. I’ll be damned if as result of my actions its sovereignty is threatened. I’d rather give myself up to the hangman right now”

“Even now, despite all circumstances, you still hold Ferelden’s best interests at heart. Your commitment is truly a source of respect" There was no falseness in Gaspard's voice. Still, Loghain didn't really need to hear that. It didn't bother him, but he didn't need those words. The Emperor continued "It is true, I publicly advocated for Orlais to go back to expansionism, starting with Ferelden. I am not a brainless warmonger; it was a political maneuver to win over support from some sector of the Empire. It was a long time ago, though. I have no such vision now. After Tevinter, or even before that war even ends, comes another threat to all Southern Thedas. The Qunari of Par Vollen, even if stopped here, are still rallying against us. What we faced was just a Ben-Hassrath operation. A storm is coming from the Northern seas, and Orlais, as the strongest nation in the South, must lead the defense. But Orlais alone won’t be enough to stop the full power of Par Vollen. Ferelden, the Free Marches, Antiva, Nevarra, even Rivain… Mark my words, Loghain, there will come a time when all of us will need to stand together. It’s that or the Qun”

“That’s quite the change of heart”

“An invasion of Qunari assassins and spies launched from the heart of Halamshiral can be very eye-opening”

“Do you also give that speech to your troops?”

“Maker, no. Not yet. Right now, for the current war, what they need to hear about is the unity and strength of our Empire” he said.

“All nations united against Par Vollen… that’s quite the ambitious notion” Marcia said.

“I am nothing if not an ambitious man”

“I take it you don’t really plan to use the weapon against Tevinter. If it were to be used so soon you would have sacrificed a crucial thing: secrecy. The secrecy that surrounds all this is precisely because you don’t want to use it just yet against Tevinter. If your countrymen knew about that weapon you would be forced to use it, so you keep it quiet” she ventured. He didn’t deny it “And why wouldn’t you want to use it against your immediate foe? Because you want to keep it for later; for the Qunari. If you used it now, word would reach Par Vollen and they would be prepared to counter it. By the time that other war starts, it would be functionally useless. No, you don’t want to give them time to react. So that’s why you would appreciate the services of someone like us for retrieving it"

Gaspard grinned. 

“You are a natural. I don’t know if that’s good or dangerous for you” he said, with amusement and approval in his voice. “You know what’s at stake then, and how I plan to address that new threat. All you have to do now is decide”

There wasn't much of a choice, right? They already knew too much. They agreed to it, obviously, and Gaspard dismissed them. 

“I can’t say I am very excited about another journey into that wasteland” Marcia murmured as she got under the blankets. 

“Nah, it’s better than hanging out all day with these Orlesians”

“Don’t be grumpy. You like Cyril, and for the looks of it, you even tolerate Gaspard”

“Why makes you think that? Maybe I am just learning to be polite, following your example”

“Not a chance” she said, giggling. 

“Speaking of Cyril… what was that story you fed him all about? Did you made it up? Or did you have such fantasies at that time?”

She laughed nervously. 

“Maybe I used to indulge in a bit daydreaming from time to time” 

“So was that all about that fantasy?”

“Oh no. That was a revisited version of some of them. I wouldn’t tell him a true one. Of course, sometimes I just imagined how it would feel to beat you in a duel. You were so harsh and skilled, I always bit the dust. But when I pictured myself winning, that’s all. It’s just winning. I am smug and you are embarrassed and proud. End of story”

“No making-out?”

“No” she said. “That’s for the version of the fantasy when the fight seems to be a tie, but you get the best of me” 

She turned her back on him. He didn't need to see her to know that she was blushing.

“But I always got the best of you, in the end. So, every time I did, you were fantasizing about me? Aw, that is so sweet; although a bit disturbing, honestly. But mostly sweet”

“Let it be, please” 

“No, you are never hearing the end of that” he teased her.

“Maker, grant me patience…”

“I am just saying that maybe we can do that some other time. When we can have the luxury of beating each other up in a duel”

“I don’t want to hurt you badly or anything” she said, and let out a little yawn.  


“You know I am not that old, and, excuse me, I’ve seen you fight as of late. You are the one that should be worried”

“Fine, then. It’s a deal”

Loghain made her turn on her back.

“What?” she murmured.

A kiss.

"Goodnight, love"


	16. Into the Approach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desert. More desert. Dragon Age needs more desert.

Before their departure, they paid Cyril a visit. He was happy that they agreed to help Gaspard, but visibly worried.   


"Whatever the Emperor wants you to find, it isn't worth your lives" 

Well wasn't that a very sweet sentiment, Loghain thought. It would be even sweeter if Cyril had actually done something, anything, to improve their particular predicament. There's a limit on every man's patience, and Loghain's ran out about ten years ago.  


They marched for days, to the west, with a cart full of supplies; everything they would have need of. When they entered the desert, Loghain remembered when he had to carry an unconscious, blighted Marcia on an improvised cart, from Griffon-Wing Keep, to Adamant. It felt strange, being back there.  


“You asked me who I was. When I told you, you laughed and said you were the Rebel Queen. Looking back, that should’ve told me something about you”

“I can't remember that. You must be pulling my leg"

“You were feverish, on the brink of death. I guess it is normal”

They made camp at a ruined tower, before sundown. The temperature would drop quickly at night during that time of the year. The scorching badlands wouldn’t turn into a freezing desolation, but the change was quite fast and noticeable nonetheless. A good shelter and fire was very much needed. Marcia placed magical wards around the tower, and Loghain made sure that a frugal diner was ready when she was done. They let the horses inside, on the ground level, and also the supplies. She and Loghain went upstairs with some furs and blankets, to the first level. There was still a roof above their heads, at least. They kept close to each other, sharing warmth. 

The crystalline sound of Marcia’s ward reacting woke them up. The sound of a threatening snarl was carried by the cold wind. The horses made a nervous noise. 

“What was that?” she uttered, terrified. 

“Stay put”

They went downstairs. Loghain raised his sword and opened the cranky wooden door. 

“I need light” he said, and she summoned a wisp that wondered around, like it was looking for whatever had disturbed the wards. Loghain paid attention to every shadow, but saw nothing. If something had been there just moments ago, it couldn’t have gone far. That thing was just probably hiding, skulking nearby, probably behind some of the rocks or mounds. He went back inside, and noticed that Marcia had calmed the horses.

“Will the barrier hold?” he asked her.

“It depends. It is strong but it has a limit. What do you think that was?”

“It’s probably just a hyena, a lone one, desperate enough to try its chances against us”

Marcia looked relieved.

“In that case we should be fine”

Once again under the blankets, Loghain held Marcia, and kept vigil for what it seemed a long time. He was waiting for another growl, or another crackling from the barrier; but only the sound of the wind was to be heard, and, like a lullaby, cradled him asleep.

The next day, at noon, they arrived at one of the last Orlesian outposts in the region. As far as Loghain knew, there was only one further ahead, on the border with the Hissing Wastes, still far. They put on their masks and showed their officially sanctioned documents. They were allowed entrance, and they were allowed to take supplies, no questions asked. It was something he was grateful for, because the journey would only get harder from there. Before leaving, Loghain spoke to one of the chief scouts and asked him if he had noticed any unusual behavior in the wildlife. The archer, a middle-aged woman, told him that she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. She asked for his map, and she marked a few wells and suitable places for shelters. She also warned him that the border outpost was abandoned during that season. Still, she said, should make a decent refuge and that some provisions were still stored in the basement. She handed him a copy of the keys. He thanked her, marveling at what a simple paper from Gaspard could get done, and soon they went on their way.

They made camp at yet another tower, this one, still in one piece. Say what you will about Tevinter, he thought, but they sure had been busy building. All over the region, vestiges of their hold on the land, prevailed no matter the centuries. They had the same routine as always: wards, dinner, trying to sleep. Loghain found himself feeling a bit anxious. He listened, almost expecting something to happen. Seeing him like that, Marcia seemed to be a bit scared as well. He told her that the barrier was strong, and that the tower was sturdier, with a metal door. He knew that, but that silence made him wonder if it could mean that whatever had lurked them the night before was just waiting a better moment to strike. Hunter beasts could definitely be that cunning. Still, he kept those thoughts to himself. Marcia wasn’t a coward, but she would sometimes be frightened by the thought of nocturnal stalkers. He remembered how scared she confessed she had been when they had to sleep in the Deep Roads. He caressed her hair and said that he worried way too much, that she shouldn’t take that too seriously. Tonight, he said, they would be fine. 

The next morning, while Marcia was getting ready, he walked around the tower, searching for any sign of passing. Trails on the changing sands, due to the wind, were difficult to find, but he saw some traces on some patches of vegetation near some rocks. He didn’t like it; it didn’t correspond to just one beast. He told her nothing about it yet. 

The norther they went, the more forsaken and trickier the landscape became. The dunes became taller, the rocky formations, bigger, the empty wasteland between shelters and marked wells, longer. And they still hadn’t reached the Hissing Wastes. A couple of nights later, they were forced to make camp at a cave. It didn’t go very deep into the earth; it was quite shallow. They just passed through an oasis, and the thought of making camp there, next to a water source and vegetation, had been strong. Still, he dismissed the thought. It wasn’t safe. The cave would have to do. 

“At least there are no giant spiders, and that is something truly remarkable” she said.

“When I was running from the Orlesian Wardens because I opposed Clarel’s ritual, I lived in a cave smaller than this one, in Crestwood, for a while”

“It suits you” she chuckled “Did you also grow a beard?”

“I didn’t go that far into isolation lunacy. I even had decorations, and maps, and a daily routine you know?”

“Right” she said. “Did you also have company?”

“You would be surprised of my roguish allure. A lone warden can be quite appealing to some”

She rolled her eyes and put another blanked around them. He honed her ear, alert, for a while, but there was just the wind and the crackling flames from their little campfire. 

There were only embers when he woke up, in the middle of the night. He could swear he had heard a noise. He could hear Marcia still asleep. Everything was dark, except for the shy blue shimmer of the deep mushrooms that grey on the stones on the walls. Again, he was vigilant, but heard nothing. It had been a dream, probably, he thought. They had safeguards at place. He closed his eyes and tried to get some rest. Then, a choir of howls resonated from the entrance. Just as he feared, a pack of hyena had been hunting them for days. The horses got anxious, and Marcia rose from the sack. She summoned a wisp of light and got ready.

“How many are there?” she asked.

“My guess is as good as yours. How exactly do these wards work, again? Is it like a permanent shield barrier?”

“No. For that I would have required an amount of energy of which I lack. Without lyrium I cannot make miracles, you know that. These are just glyphs. When something steps on it, it reacts like a trap, but it is consumed”

“So, if there are more hyenas than traps we are left defenseless. How many glyphs?”

“Usually I just use repulsion glyphs but ever since that thing came the other night, I use elemental mines. Three potent ice traps, in this case, one after the other”

Loghain knew that I could not be enough. 

“Be ready”

The first trap reacted, encasing one of the beasts like an icicle statue; then another, and the last of them. The rest of the pack attacked in a swift and coordinated matter. Marcia conjured a cone of cold, freezing some of them. She shattered it, but others evaded it. They were large and vicious animals. A couple of them went for the horses, and Loghain rushed to protect them. He soon regretted it. The remaining beasts cornered Marcia. He tried to take care of them as soon as possible. She was fending them off the best she could, with that slowing time spell she used when outnumbered. Loghain finally dealt with them, and ran to her position. She had already cut through some of them, but her spell depleted fast, and one still remained. It was very strong, and knocked Loghain down. Thankfully, Marcia cut it down as well, with her spirit blade, before it did him any real damage. 

“Are you all right?” she asked him, and helped him back on his feet.

“A bit crushed but I am fine. And you?”

“Yes. Let’s take those things outside. I don’t want to go to sleep surrounded by rotting carcasses”

They made another campfire and removed the remains one by one, and left them just outside the cave. After that he hadn’t noticed because they were hauling the carcasses, but then, when she walked back inside, he saw her limping. She was bleeding from one of her legs. 

“Dammit, Marcia. You are wounded. Why didn’t you say it?”

“It’s just a superficial bruise…”

He made her sit down, close to the fire, and removed her leathers to examine it. It didn’t look good. It was a deep laceration from a bite He cut the clothing around the open wound so it wouldn’t make further damage.

“This isn’t superficial” he scowled her. She looked at him with those eyes of hers and he softened. “It’s all right. Now just be still and good now”

“I am not a child”

“No, if you were a child you would’ve told me immediately…” he murmured. Or at least she would have cried or screamed in pain and that would have been enough to get his attention...  


He went to the cart, and took some supplies, then washed his hands and got to work. First, he tried to stop the bleeding applying pressure with cloth. 

“What was your plan? Treating it yourself behind my back?” he asked her. 

When the bleeding stopped, he rinsed the wound with water, and then cleaned the skin around it with a cloth and a bit of soap. He took a bowl and mixed water with a pinch of salt, and rinsed it again, carefully but slowly, making sure not to leave any dust or objects inside. She didn’t complain, she just shuddered from time to time.

“I am sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, after that failure of defensive traps...”

“It wasn’t your fault” he said. He wanted to tell her that it was his fault, that he knew that a pack was hunting them, but didn’t tell her because he hadn’t wanted to worry her. Still, he kept it to himself, again, and added “This this is not a bother. A bother would have been if you messed up this injury and ended up infected and sick”

He rinsed it once more. It didn’t look infected to him, but he wasn’t a physician. He didn’t want to risk it. 

“No sutures for you, young lady” he told her. “We are lucky we have some sort of ointment...”

He applied it on a clean bandage and dressed the wound with it. She left out a small whine.

“Now, now, be a model patient and just hold on a little longer”

He dressed it with another dry bandage, and then caressed her naked knee. She took his hand.

“Thank you” she said, exhausted.

“You’ve been very brave” he teased her.

“Don’t push it”

The next day, at twilight, they finally reached the Hissing Wastes. They observed the desolate region from above, from the end of the plateau of the Western Approach. The view was unwelcoming. Sand, canyons, huge formations of stone, all vast and rough, encompassing all the eyes could see. 

“It is beautiful” Marcia said. She was sitting on the front of the cart.

He didn’t exactly share her sentiment, but he could understand why she felt that way. There was some wild appeal to regions such as that. 

“Trusted squire, hand me the maps” 

He had been calling her his squire all day just because she found it annoying. He had told her that as long as she was injured, she was going to fulfil that role. She complained under her teeth and gave him the maps. He examined them closely.

“Apparently the Inquisition meddled here”

“Of course, my brother had to be here before…” she murmured.

He continued.

“They established several camps, and, at a guess, those camps have to sources of water; so I say we get to the closest one”

It wasn’t far ahead. There was some shy vegetation growing on the ground. The only vestige that still remained of the Inquisition presence was a banner on a standard. As Loghain had guessed, there was a well and it still had water. He helped Marcia down the cart. He lighted a fire, and started putting up their tent. She insisted on doing something to help, so he jested that if she could go hunting for some game that would be more than enough. She frowned, and said nothing. The next thing he heard was some noise and an animal cry. He turned to see what happened and saw her pointing at a middle distance. She had frozen one of the august rams that roamed those parts. 

“Now would you please stop being annoying?” she said.

“Annoying? How could you say that, my dearest squire, my faithful assistant and…”

“I am ignoring you now”

He took the ram and brought it to the camp. That night they had a good dinner. Marcia magically froze the cuts that remained, so they wouldn’t waste them. When he asked if she could keep that ice so long, she laughed and assured him that she would have no trouble. He washed his hands and gently changed the dressing of the wound. It seemed to be healing normally. He lifted her from where she was sitting.

“I can walk” she complained.

“No."

Marcia had never allowed him to carry her in his arms like a helpless damsel, but that situation gave him the perfect excuse. He carried her and put her on the soft sleeping bag, inside the tent. It was a silly whim, but he enjoyed doing that. He saw her blush under the light of their small travel lantern. He kissed her goodnight and tuned off the lamp. The next day, the true hardships of their journey would begin, and he prayed that her wound would heal fast. 


	17. The Hissing Wastes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More. Desert.

In the morning, he once again checked the wound.

“How did you sleep?” he asked her, as he removed the bandages.

“I swear I heard some strange noises”   


The cloth was a bit sticky so he moistened it a bit of water. 

“That must be the wyverns that haunt these regions” he said, casually. That, being said by Loghain, didn't sound ominous at all. Sarcasm there.

“Oh, great. Orlais and Wyverns, of course”

“But according to our maps, their territory lies further to the west, and we are not headed there. We are going northeast. We shouldn’t worry about them”

“What should we worry about then?”

“Just the lurkers. Sneaky, poison-spitting bastards. Their venom can paralyze a man and they hunt in packs”

“Things just keep getting better” she sighed.

He finished dressing her injury, and patted her head. 

“Everything will be fine”

It wasn’t his first time on the Hissing Wastes. Some years back, he had been there with the Wardens. There had been a project for a mining settlement in an area north to the Sunstop Mountains, where there lied a vast and twisted valley, with some vegetation and water. As expected, the miners went too deep and excavated into darkspawn tunnels. It was a bit strange, but that place was actually close to their destination. Still, he didn’t remember any Tevinter ruin around that area, and Gaspard mentioned that the text and the weapon were from Ancient Tevinter. Ah, what did he know anyway? He was not an archeologist, and he had not fully explored that valley; not even remotely. 

“So we just have to reach those rocks to enter the basin?” she said, from her seat on the cart, checking the maps.

“Those rocks are the Sunstop Mountains, and they are actually quite far. But yes. Once in the basin things will be easier. It is not too bad there, plenty of shade and refuge. You would like it, I think. It is arguably pretty, for someone that appreciates that kind of landscape”

That night, they still made camp among the dunes. Marcia looked at the mountains, that seemed as far away then as they were that morning, and exhaled. 

“I know” he said.

The next day, she insisted on walking alongside him for a while. Making her legs go numb by inaction wouldn’t help her, she said. He acceded. She limped still, but kept up better than he expected. Still, he made her sit quite soon. 

The day after that, they made camp at the foot of the Mountains. Marcia’s wound was progressing in an adequate manner, but slower than he would desire.

“So when did you learn this curative remedies? Was it with the Wardens? Because you didn’t teach me that when you recruited me”

“No. It was during my youth. A son of a farmer like me couldn’t pay for expensive cures. You had to know how to take care of stuff like that. Treating some wounds and knowing some herbs can save your life when you are on your own”

“Is it true that you were a ranger, during the Rebellion?”

“Indeed”

“So you lived a bit like a pretty wild thing back then, right? I can picture you running through the woods, surviving, and living off the land…”

“Saving Maric from his own stupidity…” he added, with a low chuckle “Yes, those were the times”

“You never talk about those times, you know?”

“I know. It is not without reason”

“Fine then” she said.

“Listen, if I don’t it is because… I don’t want to give you the impression that those times were better that the times with you” he replied, and stroked her shoulders.

“It is all right. It is not a competition. The times, the situations, they are just different. I wouldn’t be offended if you were nostalgic and part of you wished to go back and change things. There was this theory some people had that you… that you were secretly in love with Rowan. I mean, maybe, sometimes, inside you could wish you could go back and choose another path. I want you to know that I would understand” 

Loghain smiled. No, he wasn’t  _secretly_ in love with her. He had been very open with her about his feelings. At the beginning they were unrequited. He had waited, and waited. And one night, years later, she had come to him. They became lovers, for a short while. Still, he kept that to himself. He owed that to Rowan. The past was the past, and they would have never worked out. He was truly in love with her at the time, but always suspected that Rowan, who was bound to marry Maric and had always been irrationally in love with him, did that because she felt scorned when Maric took that elven woman Katriel as his mistress. These matters were always so complicated… Loghain will always hold a great affection for Rowan, in a way, but he wouldn’t change Marcia for her.

“Indeed it is not a competition. I want you to know that I wish to live in the present, with you. Even in the direst situations. I’ve fucked up things, just like everyone has, I guess, maybe a bit more than average. But I would choose the same path, every time. About that theory… well, tongues will always wager. I have nothing but respect and admiration for Rowan. She was a strong and good woman, a hell of a warrior and just of heart. Sometimes you remind me of her. But some other times…” he left out a soft laughter.

“What?”

“Sometimes you are as imprudent and impulsive as Maric”

“He was so?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, the stories and chronicles wouldn’t tell it; he could be a fool, a walking disaster. If I hadn’t found him wandering the woods like a lost rabbit, he would have probably died right after his mother, the Rebel Queen. Oh, Maker, he was green”

“But I thought you held Maric in high regard”

“I did and I do. He grew up quickly. War does that to you. He would still do stupid stuff every now and then, but the more he aged, the less foolishly he acted. Usually”

“Would you tell me stories from time to time?” she asked him. Again, she fixed those eyes on him. It was the first time since he knew her that she had dared ask him that. He wondered just for how long she had wanted to question him about his _fabled_ youth.

“Maker’s breath, all right” he conceded. “But not now. We are going to bed”

He held her, and just when he was about falling asleep, felt Marcia’s body suddenly tensing. 

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s the same thing I heard the other night, I swear” she murmured, frightened. 

Loghain listened, but heard nothing. 

“I didn’t hear anything”

He thought that she was probably excessively worried after the attack by the pack of hyena, anxious and fearful. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, making her overly alert.

“Then it could be lurkers. You said that they were very silent” she insisted.

“They hibernate this time of the year” he replied, reassuring, and caressed her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “Sleep” he whispered. “You are safe. Sleep”

Soon after sunrise, they started the last part of their journey. First, they bordered the Mountains, ascending through a path, on the slope, out in the open. That was the easy part. The path, at some point, diverged, and they had to follow a much narrower one, that twisted its way encased in walls of stone. They were forced to march very slowly, every turn was difficult. The cart and the horses could barely pass. Marcia seemed concerned. At some point she left out a hushed cry.

“There’s something around this creek”

Loghain had felt some movement as well.

“It’s probably a ram” he said.  


“Moving that fast?”

“You would be surprised of just how nimble and quick these august rams can be…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, for when they made another turn, they saw the source of the movement. He gasped. That was certainly not a ram. It was covered in sharp scales, like a natural armor, and had feathers in its tail, piercing talons and a dreadful mouth full of long teeth. It was a varghest, a clever hunter. There were many legends about its kind. They said that they would hunt the wicked, those traitorous and that committed crimes against their own kind. Loghain, if he hadn’t been scared, he would have found it very ironical. The beast had waited to have them in a point where they couldn’t run. He wondered for how long it had been hunting them. Maybe it had been stalking them for longer than the hyenas, and had been waiting for the best moment to strike. It had no competition, and Marcia was wounded. Could the beast have such understanding? Probably yes, he thought. 

The varghest charged, and Loghain tried to defend himself with the shield. Thanks to Marcia’s beneficial barrier, he had the strength to withstand the animal’s pushes. Still, he knew that it was only a matter of time that the varghest would get the best of him. Marcia jumped off the cart, and joined the fight, but stayed behind him.

“When I say so, you are going to move behind me” she said.

“So that thing can rip you apart? No way”

“Then make it stagger first”

He groaned, and kept fighting as she prepared her spell. 

“I am ready” she exclaimed.

“Wait…” he said. 

He was trying to find an opening to set the varghest out of balance so she could safely cast her magic. At last, he did. He bashed it with a powerful blow of his shield, and the beast walked back. He rolled behind Marcia and she conjured a cold grasp that stopped it. Still, it wasn’t completely frozen. He wondered what could have caused that. She dealt a blow to the beast with her spirit blade, causing a deep cut; but it still endured and broke free of her icy trap. With a fast and agile movement, the varghest ran away, with a terrible howl of pain that resonated through the narrow passage.

He soon understood what had made her cold spell not work as it usually did. As soon as her barrier spell depleted, she staggered and lost balance. She was bleeding again from her leg. All that brash and sudden movement had reopened the wound, and she had overcharged her barrier in order to make her leg work, at the cost of sheer and raw power. 

“I was right all along” she grinned, as he helped her walk back to the wagon. 

Loghain did let her be all the smug she wanted, and told her to put pressure to stop the bleeding. He would take a look at it once they were in a more defensible position. He suspected that wouldn’t be the last they would know of that varghest. 

It didn’t take long until they started to go down, to the basin in the shadow of the mountains. They stopped at a small glade, among some trees and grass that still defied that desolate area. There he saw something that made him worry. The skin around the laceration had slightly reddened. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“I’m fine”

He took off his gloves and placed his palms on her forehead. It didn’t look like she had a fever. Maybe it was just the heat of that blasted place. He treated her wound and dressed it, applying the salve and asked her to stand up. When he asked her if it hurt, she nodded, but said that only slightly.

“We can take a day off, if you need it, before going inside the ruin. It should be nearby. Now, this is not the time to be proud or stupidly brave. Do you need a day of rest or can you make it as you are now?”

“Yes, I am fine. The sooner we get that, the sooner we’ll be back in Halamshiral”

Loghain decided to trust her. He took a woodcutting axe from the cart and cut a large branch from one of the trees. Under her gaze, he worked on it with a knife. It took him a while, but he made an improvised walking stick. He handed it to her, and she frowned. Obviously, she didn’t want to use it.

“We won’t have any argument about that, please” he told her. “Let’s move out”

She looked at him, waiting for him to help her get back on the cart. Although he was tempted to carry her again, he didn’t do it. He wanted to see if it was true that she was as well as she insisted. He silently stared at her, challenging her to prove she was fine. She understood and uttered a protest. She did her best to mask her limping and, with a rather nimble movement, she climbed up to her seat. That display must have cost her a lot of energy, he though, but he was pleased to see that she wasn’t losing her spirit. 

They arrived at the site marked on the map in the afternoon. It looked like someone had excavated there long ago, but abandoned it. Just as he suspected, the ruin wasn’t Tevinter. It was an ancient dwarven outpost, magically sealed. It was Marcia’s turn to get to work. Gaspard had handed him some texts that contained the key to unlock it. She had studied them and said, braggart as she sometimes was, that it was too easy. He offered his help for her to descend, but she said that she didn’t need it. She was lying, but he let her do it her way. She took a scroll and read some words he didn’t understand, then focused and casted some sort of magic. The barrier went down.

The entrance wasn’t large enough for the cart to go through, but Loghain didn’t want to leave the horses outside, so he led them inside, and left them at the entrance. Marcia placed some protective glyphs, just in case. When she was satisfied, they continued, further into the ruin. Please, he thought, don’t let it be the Deep Roads, don’t let it be the Deep Roads. The empty stone halls led them deeper into the earth. He sighed. 

“And we are in the Deep Roads” Marcia said. “Charming as always”

“Some of these must lead to Kal-Sharok” he commented. “The good news is the darkspawn cannot sense us. The bad news is we cannot sense them.”

“It doesn’t _smell_ like darkspawn around here” she said. “This particular thaig looks just… empty”

“Empty _so far_ ” he stated. 

They followed the way, among countless pillars and lighting sources made of pure molten stone. He walked slower than usual, so Marcia could keep up. She had given up wasting energy hiding her limping. It wasn’t too severe, so they speed wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t long until they reached an abandoned settlement. It was there when they saw the corpses, or what was left of them. Skeletons, inside armors, weapons scattered around. Some of them were dwarves, some of them, human. 

“These armors are from ancient Tevinter” she said. “What happened here? They killed each other? I thought the Dwarven Empire was allied with the Imperium” 

Loghain noticed that a lot of the remains were placed around one particular building, one of the largest in the hamlet. It almost looked like those dwarves were fending off the attackers there; trying to protect whatever was inside. He told Marcia to follow him closely. The door was open. They didn’t find dwarven remains inside, but Tevinter, once again. 

“All of these men were mages” she said, pointing at the metal staffs lying around, next to the skeletons. “But they are Tevinter as well. What could this mean?”

“At a guess, there were two human factions. One of them allied with these dwarves, and the other, tried to stop whatever was happening in this very building”

The answer, Loghain thought, must lie on the innermost chamber, across the door that they were now facing.

“I feel something beyond that” she shivered. 

“Let’s be very careful” he said, and went in first. 

What he saw was unexpected. There was a woman there, alive, held by some sort of magical trap. Her clothes were rich, black and golden. 

“Are you real?” she asked.

“We are very real” Marcia assured her.

“What are you doing here? Are you here to set me free? Are you here on behalf of my apprentices?”

Loghain guessed that the dead mages on the other room were her apprentices, but somehow, not keen on telling her.

“Your apprentices are dead. May I ask who you are?” Marcia said.

“Magister Cornelia Lavinia of Minrathous. From your accent I know you are not of Tevinter. Why have you come here?”

“We are seeking an artifact of your people”

“Then look no further. That which binds me, is what you must be here for. You just need to set me free”

“And how do we do that?”

“Must I explain everything?” she exclaimed. “Look upon these chains. They are fed by that thing that your eyes must sure read as a gleaming box. Close the box, set me free”

“Is it really just that simple?” Loghain asked.

“Yes. Hurry! I’ve been waiting for too long. I must regain my freedom”

“But what does it do?” he asked.

“Don’t you have eyes, you _soporati_ brute?” she snarled.

He turned to Marcia.

“What did she just call me?” he whispered.

“Non-mages, slaves, the lowest of the low” she said. 

“Well, Magister Cornelia Lavinia of Minrathous, if you wish us to set you free you must explain a few things first” he said. “And frankly, I don’t like your tone. Where I come from, us, non-mages, are in power. So forgive me if I don’t stomach your attitude”

Cornelia didn’t seem offended, but amused. She left out a dry laughter.

“You have some nerve. I like you. Well, let me put it in very simple words. That gleaming box is a weapon of sorts, an artifact designed to trap mages. I created it, and sought the help of the finest craftsmen of Kal-Sharok. We developed it here in secret. But betrayal is always lurking when you are powerful enough, and word reached my fellow countrymen at the Magisterium. We had no idea they were coming, and they took us by surprise”

“How did you end up prisoner in your own trap?”

“One of my apprentices, Cassius, a snake, was the one that betrayed me. He turned my creation against me”

“How did you survive all that time? It’s been centuries”

“The trap kept me alive. It works twisting the victim’s own power”

“How can we trust that once freed you won’t turn on us? Why would you allow us to part with your creation?”

“Why would I want to keep this thing? I’m sick of it. You can have it. I just want to get out of here. Just close the box, and take it. I don’t care what you do with it”

Marcia stepped forward, but Loghain stopped her. 

“I don’t want you to touch it. It may be dangerous for you. Besides, I want you to keep an eye on her. I don’t trust anything about this”

“With haste!” Cornelia exclaimed, as he approached the artifact. “It isn’t hard. Just close it!”

Something was levitating in the center of that shiny, triangular box. The sides were not touching each other, it was almost like they were floating. He wondered what that was. Carefully, he made the sides touch each other, and closed it. The shackles around Cornelia seemed to loosen up, and then, a blinding burst of light filled the room. Loghain covered his eyes, and when he looked back, saw the Magister standing, free. 

“It worked. It really worked” she marveled. Then, using a very different tone, as if she were a completely different person, Cornelia laughed. “That stupid bitch Cornelia really created something remarkable”


	18. Lives

Loghain made a pause.

“Marcia is coming with me. You two have to go back to Vigil’s Keep. I don’t want to hear any arguments about it. Once we cross the eluvian, you shatter it. We cannot let that thing to spread the Blight further on”

Oghren protested a bit, but nodded. 

“You can count on us” Nathaniel said.

Marcia stayed silent, but was clearly happy that he had chosen her to go with him. She smiled. Loghain knew that confronting the Architect was risky, and that whatever lied beyond the mirror, was going to be dangerous. Still, he felt he needed her more than he was worried.

“We go in together” he told her.

He took her hand, and stepped inside the eluvian. He crossed to the other side first, and noticed that her hand had gone. He waited, but she wouldn’t come out..He tried to go back, but the eluvian wouldn’t let him pass. Velanna laughed, observing him. With a snap on his fingers, she shattered the mirror.

“What have you done? Where is Marcia?”

“Oh, poor stupid _shemlen_... She’s gone, don’t you see? Forever trapped in between” 

No, that couldn’t be happening. No, no, no. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He should have put her safety before his own desires. She had followed him, and now she was going to die alone, trapped, and with her, he felt a part of him abandon him forever. He had tried to be different, but now he was going to be exactly what the world expected him to be. His heart was broken, but he found relief in that. No more fighting against the world. Giving in felt better than expected.

He killed them, of course. Velanna was first. Then his sister, when she tried to avenge her. And then he killed the Architect, that filthy abomination. Finally, Ferelden had been vindicated; the responsible of the Fifth Blight was no more. Keeping him alive for some hypothetical cure wasn’t worth the price.

He found his way back to the surface, and then, he started his journey back to Vigil’s Keep. When Oghren saw him, he asked:

“Where’s the pup?”

Loghain didn’t reply. Nathaniel gave him back his badge of rank. 

Over the next few years, they rebuilt the Order in Ferelden. Loghain was a strict, harsh and distant commander, albeit very capable and completely dedicated to his duties. The only ones he would treat with a bit more amiability were Nathaniel and Oghren, but their relationship was never the same.

And then, he knew that his time had come. After some months hearing the call of the Old Gods, first in his dreams, then even during vigil, he knew that he had run out of time. He left for Orzammar. The dwarves there received him well, and guided him to the entrance of the Deep Roads. He went in humming the maddening song, into one final battle. Part of him wanted to be struck down quickly; he wanted to die honorably, but die fast. He didn’t have that chance. Every skirmish he fought, he won. He was full of rage and fought like never before. Right, he thought, I will take as many of them as possible. 

He didn’t remember how long he had been down there. He lived off the nugs and deep mushrooms he found, and sometimes, when he was truly desperate, even darkspawn meat. His skin was tearing, darkening and twisting, and he felt lumps of hair falling. He couldn’t stop himself from singing the Song. It was all that occupied his thoughts. And he went on, like that, for what felt like an eternity. At some point, he decided to stop fighting the darkspawn. What was the point, anyway? They didn’t even attack him. After all, they had so much in common. His corruption didn’t bother him anymore. He cared only for survival, and for the Song.

He had established his refuge at an abandoned dwarven hamlet, in a deep, forsaken thaig. Some shrieks used to roam that place, but didn’t bother him. They were the same. One day, or night, or maybe there were no more day or nights, something happened. He heard the shrieks howl, and fight. He stuck to the shadows, hobbling, and observed what had happened. There was someone else there, and had killed the shrieks. He couldn’t see the figure’s face, for it was covered with a mask, but it looked like that person was looking for something. He followed, sneaking close behind. A visitor could be entertaining, or at least provide for some fresh sustenance.

“Loghain?” the figure called.

That voice. It wasn’t possible. He jumped on her, from a blind side. 

“Why do you search for Loghain? Who are you?” he cried.

“Loghain, it’s me, Marcia”

With his bloating, nailess hands, he took off the mask. He gasped, and ran away from her. He needed to hide. Could she be her? She looked so young, so untainted. No, she had to be a demon. She found him, and he tried to cover himself with his arms.

“Go away, demon!” 

“It’s me. You need to calm down”

“I don’t care. Just go away”

She tried to touch him, but he pushed her away.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me! I don’t want you to see what I am”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am a monster, don’t you see? A sickening being consumed by the Blight, more darkspawn than human. Leave before I hurt you. Because I will. The Song commands”

“Loghain, this isn’t real. You are not even a Grey Warden anymore. We were both cured”

“Lies, lies”

She wasn’t her. She was a demon, a demon. He would not let that thing feed on him.

“Listen to me, we are in the Fade. We need to find a way out”

“You cannot trick me”

Humming the call of the Old Gods under his breath, he attacked her. She defended herself fairly well, but was limping from a wound in one of her legs. He knocked her to the floor.

“How dare you wear her face?” he snarled.

He put his hands around her neck, and pressed. She was doing her best to resist him, but he had the advantage. It was only a matter of time that she gave up, and then, everything would be over.

“Please, don’t kill me” she said, crying, and she looked to the side. He followed her gaze, to her sword. It was lying around next to them. She was probably going to make one last desperate attempt to catch it. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die here”

He let go of her neck, and they both reached for the sword. Loghain was faster. He got the weapon and caught her while she was trying to stand up. She screamed and kicked, and tried to resist with all the strength she had left. He saw her lips move, begging, but didn’t hear anything. He raised the blade, still humming the Song. Then he noticed his own reflection on the metal. He was  _himself_ . 

“I’m sorry” he uttered.

He threw the blade away from them, and ran away. He wasn’t hobbling anymore. He looked at his hands. They were his hands, the very hands he had used to try to murder Marcia. He hid in one of the dwarven houses, and hoped that she wouldn’t find him. But she did. She was dragging her leg a little.

“Go” he said, crying in a corner.

She sat beside him. 

“Why are you still here? I almost killed you”

“We all make mistakes in the Fade. We can talk about it later. Whatever you think you have lived, it isn’t real. It was just fragments of a narrative, conveniently twisted in your mind. We need to get moving”

It was as she said, and he regained consciousness of everything that had happened before entering the Fade. He followed her, and surprisingly, as soon as they crossed the bridge that led out of the dwarven village, everything changed. It was the green, strange and unsettling, just as he remembered. Of course that was a different part, but looked familiar nonetheless. 

“Where are we going?”

“We need to find the real Cornelia” she said. 

“What do you mean the real Cornelia? She’s the one that trapped us here”

“No, she isn’t. What spoke to us was her body, but wasn’t her. She was possessed. This is the realm of a powerful fear demon”

That explained the nightmare he had been trapped in. All his deepest fears represented: losing Marcia, losing himself and finally, the Calling. 

After an indefinite time of searching, they found Cornelia hiding, in a cemetery.  


“Magister Cornelia Lavinia?” Marcia asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“Someone who wants to help”

The woman stared at her, and then at Loghain.

“You are not of this place” she stated. “I guess you found my body”

“Yes. Come with us. We can get out of here”

“But it’s been so long… I don’t think I can make it”

“If we kill the demon, you can be free, reclaim your body, rebuild your life. Maybe it won’t be the same life, but it would be yours nonetheless!” Marcia insisted.

“Oh, sweet girl. You have no idea, don’t you?” she replied. “If my body is still in one piece it is because I made a pact with the fear demon that commands it. I was terrified when my colleagues at the Magisterium came to kill me, and I summoned him. I, the very person that created this artifact so we could purge the elite’s that abused blood magic. I guess in the end, I was as weak as them. Then one of my apprentices used my own invention against me. That gave the demon the opportunity to take full command of my body, and what survived of me, was cast here, his realm”

Marcia was not giving up.

“But you can fight him still. You can stay here, or you can help us and help yourself. Stand against him”

Cornelia seemed pensive.

“Maybe it’s the only way… Very well, let’s hunt him”

The three of them fought their way through many lesser demons. Cornelia led them to his lair; a tower. The ascension wasn’t without foes in their way. Eventually, they found their leader. 

“Ah, Cornelia. It only took a few centuries to grow a spine” he mocked her. “Pitiful, and your friends, more than pitiful. Go back to hide from my minions, I do enjoy our little game of hide and seek. I might grant you more time to find shelter, if you leave now”

“No more” she said.

He turned to Loghain.

“There’s nothing like watching someone murdering the one they love. What a vicious beast you were for me, bathed in rage and corruption. Delightful. It was so easy to twist your will. Do you really think you can stand against me?”

Loghain said nothing, but readied his weapon.

“Oh, Marcia. Poor, broken Marcia. You saw through my nightmare because it was exactly how you feel about yourself, what you tell yourself you deserve. What a mind you have. Tell me, truthfully, you enjoyed it. You belong here” he laughed.

She casted the barrier on them, and the battle begun. It was a tough fight. Cornelia turned out to be a skilled elementalist, that favored lightning. Her spells were offensive; a clear contrast to Marcia’s style, and a very much useful addition to them. Still, Marcia’s dispels and barrier proved indispensable. After a long quarrel, they rose victorious. It was time to go back, but Cornelia stepped away.

“I’m not coming with you” she said. “My body was kept intact because of the demon’s influence and the power of my artifact. I will wither and die in a matter of minutes. I don’t want to feel that”

“But you’ll be stuck here”

“Not all the Fade is that bad” she said. “Besides, we killed that thing. Now I am free to go wherever I please”

“But you won’t be able to find deliverance” Marcia said. “Don’t you want to know what lies for the spirit, what awaits once you die? Don’t you wish to go to the Maker?”

“Maybe, but not today. I just want to survive. Don’t worry about me, I will manage”

Marcia didn’t insist.

“Farewell” Cornelia said. “Take care of my creation, but be wary of it”

Loghain woke up on the cold stone floor. He stood up, and looked around. Cornelia’s body was lying at the center of the room, consumed, inert. Marcia was still sitting on the ground, with her back leaning against the wall. Loghain took the relic and put it, carefully, inside his backpack.

“Gaspard will better love that thing” she said.

He helped her, but couldn’t even look at her. He was still ashamed of himself. The curtain of night had already spread across the sky when they got out of the site. To make their day even better, they were attacked by the varghest as soon as they set afoot outside. Loghain was so full of anger that took care of it in a shockingly cruel manner. 

“That’s enough!” she cried, and stated his hand. “It is dead. Stop. You are not hurting it, you are hurting yourself”

It was true. What a sorry display he had made for her. They walked in silence until they reached a suitable place for a camp. She gathered some deadwood for the fire, and he put on the tent. They ate the last of the game, and Loghain stared at the fire. Marcia moved towards him, and put her leg on his lap. Still without making eye contact, he took care of it. All that walking around was preventing it from curing decently. And they were running out of ointment. He carried her and put her inside the tent. Then, he lied there, with his back turned against her. 

“Tell me what happened” she said. “Tell me what you saw”

He told her.

“Everything was so real, the memories, the corruption, the feeling of the passing of time, the maddening of the Calling... I am mortified that I fell for it”

“We all make mistakes in the Fade. The time before that it was me that tried to kill you”

“I was never really at risk when you turned on me. But had I succeeded, you would have become tranquil in real life”

“I know” she said. “I had never been more frightened in my life”

“What sickens me is that I didn’t even flinch. I was really going to murder you. I should have known better. I cannot forgive myself”

“Look at me” she said. “Look. At. Me”

Reticently, he turned to face her. He kept his gaze low, and she took his face on her hands. She kissed him. It was sweet and almost shy.

“I love you, and I forgive you"  


Love was indeed a wonderful thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because... the Fade. For the lolz.


	19. An Orlesian melodrama in three acts

he first half of the way back went rather smoothly, without troubles with the wildlife or the weather. Loghain had feared that it would rain, for more and more clouds seemed to be gathering. He knew what could happen if they found themselves in the Hissing Wastes, in the middle of a torrential storm. It would have been a disaster; the sand would turn into mud, and the slopes and gradients would make the mud into deadly a deadly current. They were lucky. The trek through the Western Approach was a bit easier. They stopped at one of the Orlesian outposts and Loghain asked for some ointment. Once again, the little piece of paper with Emperor Gaspard’s personal seal made wonders. 

Once out of the Approach, they followed the Imperial Highway to the East. It was a while after leaving Verchiel behind, halfway to Lydes, that Marcia presented clear signs of a strong fever. Loghain had done his best to keep that ugly tear healthy, but it had eventually grown infected. Before knowing that, the plan was to make a stop at Lydes, rest the night there and then getting to Halamshiral the next day. Should they spend the night at Lydes, try to get a physician, risking the discovery of their identities and their involvement with Gaspard’s plans? Marcia needed help and fast. He could only help her so much, and it wasn’t going to be enough. Still, wouldn’t she have access to better treatment at Halamshiral? It would take only a bit longer, if they didn’t stop and kept marching all night. He consulted with her.

“It’s only a few hours. We can make it” she said. 

It was exhausting, but they made it. They arrived a few hours after midnight. The royal guards made quite the fuss. Loghain wasn’t about to stomach any more formalities. He showed them the documents and demanded entrance at once. They wouldn’t let him pass. It was understandable; he would have done the same in their position, but Marcia’s situation precluded him from showing any empathy. The guards woke up one of their superiors, who wasn’t happy about it. Loghain showed him the documents. The officer read them thoroughly and then looked at his men.

“What are you? Illiterate barbarians? You wake me up in the middle of the night for this? Can’t you read?!”

“But sir, they could be forged…” one of them uttered.

The officer needed only to turn his head towards him for the guard to keep quiet. He gave the papers back to Loghain.

“I am sorry. This has been a terrible misunderstanding. Please, understand that… you don’t sound or look like guests of the Winter Palace; and you demand entry at this hour. Still, my men should have not been guided by the first impression” he pointed at some of the guards “You three, with me. The rest of you, back to your duties!” then he spoke to Loghain “Please, follow me”

Loghain suspected that the officer didn’t fully trust the paper. They were going to be escorted inside. He helped Marcia get down from her seat, and she leaned on him. She could barely walk between the fever and the infected wound.

“What happened to her?” the officer asked.

“She had an accident” Loghain replied. “Wait, where are we going? The guest wing is the other way”

“I know” he said. “Now, please, down the stairs. Don’t make things harder for yourselves and come quietly”

Shit. As much as he wanted, he couldn’t pick a fight there. He tried to stay calm when they were thrown into the dungeons. At least they left them in the same cell. 

“This is preposterous!” Loghain exclaimed. “Ask Duke de Montfort. We are his guests. He won’t be pleased with this”

One of the guards seemed doubtful.

“Sir?”

“Ignore that Fereldan doglord. He’s just dropping names, trying to frighten us. Duke de Montfort. Pfft. And I am on a first name basis with the Queen of Antiva”

“But what about the woman, sir? She needs a healer”

“Not my problem”

The officer left with two of the men. It infuriated Loghain to think that he would go to sleep without giving a second thought about any of that. Marcia was shivering from her illness.

“I am sorry” the remaining guard murmured.

“In case you were wondering, she has a deep wound, infected. And it can make her lose her leg, maybe even die” Loghain said.

“I am sorry”

“Stop being sorry and do something! Maker’s breath! What’s wrong with you?”

“I cannot do that”

“Can’t you get Cyril de Montfort?”

“Maybe when the sun comes out... His Grace is resting now”

“His Grace is resting now?! Don’t you have any mercy in you? No, why bother. I should have known better than to appeal to an Orlesian’s compassion, sense of honor or anything higher than their own interests. You are all the same”

The guard seemed offended.

“You are wrong and prejudiced, Fereldan”

“Prove me wrong” he dared him.

“My orders…”

“No one needs to know. You know it is the right thing”

“Duke de Montfort will be grateful” uttered Marcia, with great effort. “A fine young man just like you, a man with such integrity and initiative… will surely have a bright future ahead of him”

He stayed silent for a while, and finally, he acceded. They waited. It seemed like an eternity. Marcia was lying on the floor, with her eyes closed, still shivering. Loghain blamed himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. He should have stopped at Lydes. The dungeon door opened and he recognized Cyril’s voice.

“This must be important, or I swear I will have you flogged alive”. Those were the words Loghain heard before actually seeing Cyril.  


He stood in front of their cell, in his nightclothes. It was very strange to see him like that. For a moment, Loghain feared that he will act as he didn’t know them. Maybe he was in no position to protect them directly. Maybe he had put him in a situation where he would just deny all and desert them. Cyril was quiet for some dreadful moments.

“Release them immediately” he ordered.

The guard obeyed. 

“Now, you are going to take her and bring her with us” he stated. But be very careful and very gentle. She’s not a sack of lumber”

“I can do that” Loghain complained.

“You haven’t seen yourself on a mirror as of late, it seems” Cyril replied. 

They followed Cyril to his chambers. Cyril pointed at the bed and the guard put her there, as carefully and gently as the Duke had told him. 

“These are for your service and for your silence” he told him, giving him four golden sovereigns. “What is your name?”

The guard shyly uttered his name. Cyril nodded and dismissed him.

“You stay here. I am going to get the court’s physician”

If he weren’t that worried about Marcia, Loghain would have dryly mocked, internally, that the physician was yet another Orlesian in pompous nightwear. But it wasn’t the time for jokes. The old healer sent him and Cyril out, without paying any attention to their protests. He locked the door behind him, leaving them in the dark hallway.

“He has always been that charming, in case you were wondering” Cyril said. “So… hum, maybe we should wait somewhere else? Like in your chambers?”

“Marcia is the one that keeps the keys...”

Loghain sat on the floor and leaned his back against the wall next to the door. Cyril seemed doubtful, but imitated him. He placed the silver lantern beside them. At least they had light. 

“Now, please, would you tell me what happened?”

He explained about her injury and the incident with the guards. 

“I am so sorry you have been treated like that. It is outrageous. Gaspard will know of that. Ignoring his seal and orders on the documents was an act of direct defiance; heads will roll. Well, not literally. I hope” he jested in an attempt to relieve tension. 

Loghain indulged him with a faint smile. They stayed silent for a while. It wasn’t an awkward silence.

“Thank you” Loghain said, suddenly.

“What for?”

“You exposed yourself for our sake tonight. You could have just denied all involvement”

“That was barely exposure”

Loghain knew that he was telling a white lie. A member of the Council of Heralds ordering the release of two foreign prisoners from the dungeons of Halamshiral, in the middle of the night? That was exactly the kind of gossip that would spread fast. He looked at Cyril and told him that he didn’t need to tell him comforting lies. 

“Oh, fine. It was exposure. The damage can be _repaired_. Don’t fret. Even if it couldn’t, there was only one proper choice of action”

They waited and waited. At some point, the door opened, and the old physician came out. The first thing he did, was to ask who had treated the wound. Loghain told him it had been him. The healer then proceeded to scold him thoroughly about almost every possible detail of the wound and treatment. He hadn’t been reprimanded in such a manner since he was a child. 

“But I guess you could have done worse” he admitted. “I don’t know how you managed; maybe she just got lucky”

“What do you mean, lucky?” Loghain asked, feeling a heavy weight oppressing his chest.

“She’ll live. And she didn’t lose the leg, but”

“But?”

“She’s going to keep a large scar… and a very slight, non-incapacitating, limping. You can go in now, but she needs rest. The fever remains, but she should be fine in a few days, if tended to _properly_ ”

The old man left, and they went back inside. Loghain rushed to her side, and knelt by the bed. He took her hand and kissed it several times.

“Stop being so dramatic. I am fine” she said. 

“Did that man treat you well? Was he discourteous?” he asked her. 

“No, we got along well”

“Now that’s something you don’t hear every day” Cyril said.

“Oh, Cyril. We are in your room. We’ll be just leaving now…” she said, and tried to leave the bed, like nothing happened. She would have jumped if Loghain hadn’t stopped her. 

“Don’t worry about that. My room is your room. Besides, it’s almost dawn. I am not going back to bed now” 

“You need to rest, you know that right?” Loghain asked her.

She nodded. 

“No jumping off the bed, or I swear to Andraste I will tie you to the bedpost” he whispered so only she could hear him. 

“Like you need a pretext to do that” she replied, in a normal tone.

Loghain blushed and looked at Cyril from the corner of his eye. If he had caught anything from the conversation, he was masking it well. He went behind a folding screen to change his clothes. Loghain took of his boots and armor, and left with his shirt and trousers, he lied on top of the empty side of the bed. It was a large one, and some empty space remained still. He heard Cyril say that they must take all the time they needed, then something about taking care of some things and that he would come back later. Loghain wasn’t really listening, for he was quickly fading away into dream.

A nock on the door woke him up. He checked on Marcia first. She still had fever, but not as high as some hours ago. There was another knock. He went out of bed and opened the door. A young woman followed by some servants entered the room. The servants were carrying jugs of water, and went directly to the side room. With some of them, they filled the bathtub and the washbasin. Some others were just left next to the bed. Then, they left, but not the woman.

“I am here for the patient”

“Are you… the nurse?” Loghain ventured.

“I am the master physician’s first apprentice” she said, slowly.

“I’m sorry” 

“It’s not your fault. It happens all the time because I am a woman” she muttered. “So what are you? The father or the lover?”

“None of that”

“Ha! A husband! We don’t see many of your kind here”

Loghain waited for her to do her job behind the folding screen, but still listened closely. She was kind to her. He gave her some medicine and told her when and how to take it. Then he spoke to Loghain.

“Look, whatever my mentor told you, you did a good job given the circumstances”

“Thank you. But what’s that water for?”

“Well, it’s obvious. It’s for washing”

“And how is she going to fit in the bathtub and keep the suture dry?”

The woman stared at him like she didn’t believe her eyes.

“She’s not the only one in need of a proper bath”

Loghain suddenly felt self-conscious and embarrassed. She left, and one servant came in to take care of Marcia. Meanwhile, he went into the bathtub. The water was son warm and pleasant that he almost fell asleep once again. He noticed some clean clothes and put them on. When he went back to the bedroom, not only was Marcia prepared, but the bed linens changed and the servant gone. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“I am bored out of my mind, naturally” she replied.

He smirked. That must mean that she was getting better.

“Well, there’s an easy solution to that…” he said. 

He took a look at the books, and chose some that could be of interest to her. Then he sat by the window, close to the bed, and read aloud for her. It was a piece of Orlesian theater, an amusing melodrama in three acts. 

“You have to do the voices as well”

Loghain knew exactly how to do the voices, but he shook his head.

“I’m not going to do that”

“Please?” she begged, with her lively, beautiful eyes.

“Stop it, temptress. It’s not going to work”

He did the voices, of course he did. He abruptly interrupted his narration when Cyril came back. He put his mask away and sat with them, with a satisfied smile on his face. 

“You’ll be pleased to hear that the officer that thrown you in the dungeon has been relieved of his duties. That charming young lad holds now his position”

“Gaspard ordered that?”

“It is his prerogative to remove or place whoever he finds suitable in his Palace Guard” 

“What was the reason adduced?”

“On paper, it is dishonorable discharge for indecent behavior. We knew that he was involved with one of the elves from the kitchens. It was the right moment to use that knowledge”

“Arbitrary detention is not grounds enough?” Loghain asked.

Cyril smiled, but didn’t reply. It was all right. Loghain wasn’t expecting an answer. 

“Gaspard is looking forward to meeting you both once you are recovered” he told Marcia. “If I were you, I would do my best to recover soon. That was a joke. He said that there would be time to brief him on your mission later. However, he would like an immediate confirmation as whether you succeeded or not”

“You can tell him that he can relax, it’s taken care of” Loghain replied. “By the way, the things in the cart…”

“Oh yes, all you belongings were intervened, but luckily, stayed unsearched due to the late hour. They will be delivered here soon. Oh, but look at me, pestering you with business. No more discussing work until you are back on your feet”

Cyril rose from the chair and said that he should leave them alone.

“Stay” Marcia said. “We could use some company after so many days in the desert. Besides, Loghain is halfway through _Death in the Mansion_ ”

He raised a brow and smirked at Loghain. 

“When you put it that way…” he said, and sat back. 

“Don’t forget the voices” she added. 

In the evening, Cyril asked Marcia for the key to their room. 

“What for?” 

“I need a place to sleep” he replied.

“You shouldn’t be evicted from your own chambers”

“I am afraid I am already evicted from my own bed. For a good cause, of course, but evicted nonetheless. What else could you propose? Don’t you think it is fair that in return, I am allowed to use yours?”

“No” she said.

Loghain’s face lost all color. What was she thinking? Cyril didn’t seem upset with her words; on the contrary, his interest had been picked. Was she playing some sort of game? He observed without intervening. 

“So what would you have me do?” he asked her, servile. “Am I to linger on the armchair while you sleep comfortably under the silken sheets, in the arms of your beloved?” 

“Of course not” she said, warmly. Cyril’s eyes sparked, and then she added “The couch is much more appropriate”

“Alas, what a cruel woman you are”

“Cruel? Cruelty would be casting you away, or making you sleep on the floor. Is that what you want? Do you wish to sleep at my feet, on the floor, like a dog?”

Loghain had never seen that side of Marcia, but smirked, amused, when he heard that line. She had taken that one from him. He was rather enjoying that. Of course, he wouldn’t want to be in Cyril’s position nor tolerate to be treated in such a manner, but he liked to watch her inflicting that treatment on him. 

“No. Please, forgive me”

“Forgive me and?”

“Thank you” he said.

Marcia nodded, satisfied.

“Don’t stand there, go and prepare your crib” she ordered.

Cyril obeyed. Once he finished, he turned to Marcia, looking for approval.

“Are you going to sleep in that outfit? No? Then change” she said. He went behind the folding screen, but Marcia wouldn’t have it. “No, don’t hide behind the screen. Come back to where I can see you and do it there”

He blushed, but did as she said. He was clearly embarrassed, but Marcia didn’t even look twice at his naked body even as he was, by any standard, a handsome man. Marcia’s deliberate disregard seemed to add to his submissive attitude and eagerness even more. Once changed, she ordered him to get closer. He knelt by her side of the bed, and she caressed his black hair. He closed his eyes when she did, quivering now and then. She stopped and he looked upon her, helpless. She didn’t even flinch and dismissed him to the sofa. 

Loghain joined her in bed after turning off all the lights. For some reason he had an urge to push her beneath him and remind her of her place when she was with him, just in case she would forget. Still, he wondered if that would come out as an act of jealousy. And of course it wouldn’t be a wise thing to do, with Marcia still recovering. 

“Did you enjoy it?” she whispered in his ear, really low. It was like she was confirming to him that nothing was going to change between them, and exactly what he needed to hear.

“It was interesting” he granted her. 

And fucking weird too.

He would have time to think about it the next day, though.


	20. Dues

A few days later Marcia insisted that she was fully recovered, and the apprentice physician gave her conformity. The first thing she wanted to do was to walk the inner gardens, so Loghain accompanied her. Her walking was fine, almost perfect. She would only show a minor limp under thorough observation when she was tired. When she was so, he led her to a secluded alcove, still in the gardens.

“You know this is a lover’s alcove right?” she asked him.

“A what?”

Marcia explained that there were obvious dark corners in which people would go to be seen, or to not be seen, but noticed. 

“A bubble of privacy, but in public, if you know what I mean…” she said with a wink.

“Orlesians are weird” he muttered. “But since we are in one of these places, indulge me for a moment. Tell me, what is it you wish to do with Cyril? You practically begged me to keep you away from him and now… Now I am not sure what you are doing”

“Ah, we finally have this conversation” she said. “It’s just a game. The three of us enjoy it as it is. Cyril enjoys being subdued, I enjoy making my pet and you like to watch him quiver under my whims. Not to mention that you enjoy having me”

“But won’t he want more?”

“I think he is quite content with his situation and aware of ours”

“And what is his situation?”

“He’s our friend, and we are just having fun. Things won’t go further than they already are. He likes it that way, don’t you see it? That’s his thing. He relishes the possibility, the tension, the games, but he does not act on it”

“A friend now, is he?”

“Come on. I think it is only fair to call him that. It’s clear that we all like each other in one or other manner. But our manner is made of different stuff”

“I just want to make sure this won’t come back to hurt you in any way. I _know_ you” he said, tenderly. 

Whatever his doubts were, that evening when they moved back to their own chambers and therefore, to their own intimacy, vanished. 

“Finally, I got you all to myself” he grinned. 

“Any ideas?”

“Yes” he said and put a razor in her hands. “You know we have to meet Gaspard later. Make me look presentable”

Loghain liked to be shaved, but didn’t like to do it himself. One day Marcia had offered to do it for him, and ever since, he would ask her every now and then to do it for him. Besides, he just enjoyed the pleasant feeling of her tending to him.

“So what do you think Cyril has in store for us?” she asked. “I bet tomorrow he will come to us with some sort of wacky plan”

“Then we will worry about it tomorrow”

After she was done, she gave his razor back and asked Loghain to show her the artifact before giving it to Gaspard. He acceded, but told her not to touch it. 

“It is pretty” she said, examining the intricacies of the metalwork. 

“I am surprised that you don’t consider it an abomination”

“Because I am a mage? The inventor was a mage as well. She knew the dangers of abuse of magic, and envisioned a simple solution to deal with dangerous elements. It is not irreversible, like tranquility, and it doesn’t require much time or effort. Simple and fast” 

“You clearly have an idea about what use Gaspard wishes to give to it, right?”

“If Gaspard is preparing to face the Qunari, he knows what their mages – Saarebas – are capable of. They are not individuals in the eyes of the Qunari, and they have no freedom: they are leashed weapons, and ones of immense power. They can turn the battle fast and fatally”

“So you approve of giving it to him?”

“Do you wish for the Qun to succeed? Could you imagine me or any other person chained and with the lips stitched and tongues cut, bound to a keeper, used only for destruction? Do you wish to live like a mindless and nameless zealot-servant?”

“Of course not!” he replied. 

“So we give it to the Emperor. Orlais is not perfect, but I would feel safer if I knew they have the ways to stop them”

“You used to have stronger opinions about Orlesians” he said. 

“That was before depending on some them for our own survival and seeing you in that doublet”

“What’s with me in the doublet?”

“You look quite fetching. And the mask gives you a rather mysterious air”

He cracked a smile and told her she had a very broad concept for the word fetching. Then he put the artifact away. He didn’t want to risk any surprise. 

Gaspard was only too happy about its retrieval. After listening to their report, he apologized for the way the guards had treated them; then he raised a merry toast in their name. They drank with him.

“Your eyes are very inquisitive, Madam Trevelyan” he said. “Is there anything on your mind?”

“No, your Highness”

“Is it about your reward? Speak your mind, don’t be afraid”

“This isn’t about a reward. I worry about its uses. We’ve told you what we’ve seen”

“Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders?” 

“I know that we are in no position for anything, but I would sleep better at night if I could trust that it would only be used against Saarebas”

Gaspard stared at her, silently. She held his gaze, gracefully, no sign of her usual defiance or smugness. 

“Every time I meet you I have more certainty as to why Morton was so fond of you. You should hold rank, madam. Maybe in another life…” he said. “But now, don’t be shy. Tell me what you want. I will grant whatever you ask of me”

He was speaking directly to Marcia, so Loghain just remained passive.

“We are not asking for a reward”

Loghain’s first instinct was to shout at her, but he kept calm. Gaspard smirked at her. 

“So it’s going to be that way. I can’t say I wasn’t expecting that” he replied. He made a pause. “Know that you have an Emperor’s personal gratitude; and that’s not a thing to be said lightly”

Loghain then understood that Marcia was probably waiting to capitalize on that when they were in desperate need of a favor. Gaspard seemed to understand her intentions perfectly. Sometimes, the way she blended in with Orlesian high society scared him. It made him feel like he was coming from a complete different world, like he spoke a different language. Well, he did after all. He knew that she had to be quite the social chameleon for years, from her times when she sought to escape the Circle life in Ostwick, when she joined the Wardens and helped him deal with King Alistair, and now there, in Orlais. He had never seen enjoying herself as much as she was doing it when dealing with Cyril and Gaspard. The way she flowed and adapted and how she liked it was almost intimidating. Gaspard, of course, noticed her enjoyment, and was visibly amused by it. 

“Madam, if you are to truly master the Game, you should mask your gratification better. As much as it is charming to observe, some would find a way to use it to their advantage”

“But Your Highness wouldn’t do such a thing, surely”

“Indeed. If I tell you it is because t I wouldn’t like to see you crushed by a better player. Our nobility partakes in highly risky games but the consequences almost never reach them directly. Others pay the price for them; that’s why they are still in the game. Keep that in mind”

Did Gaspard know anything about the developments of their relationship with Cyril? Maybe he knew what Cyril had planned for them and was trying to warn them? Or was it just a general advice? Marcia bowed her head slightly. 

“Thank you”

“It was my pleasure. Following your exploits has been quite interesting. I am curious to see where your acts will lead you”

For many days Loghain had craved to be exactly where he was: the bed in their chambers, alone with Marcia, just resting safe and sound. Still, he found it impossible to fall asleep. She, on the contrary, was sleeping like a log, on her stomach. She wasn’t supposed to sleep like that for a while, due to the wound. She fell asleep in other position, but old habits die hard, and she unconsciously moved. From time to time she would mumble something illegible. At some point, she laughed. He wondered what she was dreaming about. He tired of rolling around in his part of the bed, so he sneaked out silently. The room was almost in darkness, but he dared not to open the curtains in fear of waking her up; so he just walked around as stealthily as possible. He heard her move, and then stop, and then some more movements.

“Loghain?” she called, with a whisper.

“Yes, I’m here”

“What are you doing?”

He went back in bed. 

“I couldn’t sleep” he said. “Did I make any noise that woke you?”

“No. I guess I just turned around and found an empty spot” she said. He found that sweet “But why couldn’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know” he replied.

“Something on your mind?”

“No” he said. 

“I don’t believe you”

He sighed. 

“I guess I can feel intimidated sometimes” he murmured. “Just let me explain”

“All right”

“The way you deal with the attention of men like Gaspard or Cyril. How natural it seems to be, how much you enjoy having it, how different you act”

“I’m still the same person”

“I know that. But sometimes I feel otherwise”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that! I feel proud of you; I want to shout out to the world that that’s you”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He bit his lip. What he was about to say wasn’t going to be easy for him. There was no smooth way about it, and she could interpret it wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was to create a fissure between them. If he didn’t say it everything would be fine, he thought.

“Loghain? What’s the problem?” she repeated.

He needed to take it off his chest.

“Do you ever ask yourself where that attention could lead you? You could aspire to so much more than anything I could possibly offer you. You are in the right place and in the right time, if you would play your cards right. I’m in my middle fifties; you are in your thirties. You should think about what kind of future you want to secure for yourself. You are so young! Cyril is developing quite the fervor for you, and you admitted that you liked him, in some sort of manner. I… I sometimes wonder if it is immoral of me to keep you; if I should step away, for your sake; if you could be better-off with someone else”

She didn’t reply right away. She stayed quiet and immobile. Loghain couldn’t see her face, but suspected that she didn’t take his words well. He moved towards her and tried to hold her, but she wouldn’t let him.

“You want this to be over then? Because of some hypothetical moral reason?”

“No, that’s not what I meant”

“Shut up” she said. “I know exactly what you meant. I could aspire to more? Play my cards? It almost sounds like I am back at my life at Ostwick’s Court, focused on seducing the right person to my own advantage; like I am still searching for the bigger prize. Of all people, I didn’t expect that from you. How dare you!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way”

“Well that’s exactly the way it sounded” she replied, and got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Since you are so keen of the idea of Cyril and me, I’m going to give it a try”

And she left from the hidden door between their rooms. Now that was childish, he thought. Still, he went after her, but she had locked the door from the other side. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he told himself. He played that scene in his mind time and again. His words hadn’t matched well with what he had truly wanted to tell her. She was right, given the way she had always confided in him and the nature of her confidences, it had sounded like she said. And now she was upset and acting exactly like that. She was probably just trying to teach him a lesson, right? He tried to think that, but feared to have broken something irreparable. He did his best not to imagine what was happening on the other side of the walls, but some thoughts slipped into his mind. He lied awake, on his back, wondering what was wrong with him. He thought of Marcia, but also about the women before her. Marcia was different from the rest; she had been the one he had the opportunity to live a life of his own with, a life they were both content about. Why did he have the impulse of telling her all that? He asked himself that and many other questions, for what it felt like a long time.

He was so deep in his thoughts, chastising himself, that he didn’t hear her enter. He realized she was there only when she crept inside the linens and blankets. She reached for him. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t pushed her away either. He was too confused to react. She curled up around him, and rested her head on his chest. It was then that he noticed her tears. He held her.

“I didn’t do it” she wept.

“I wasn’t going to ask you” he said. It was true.

“Still, I want you to know, I didn’t do it. I didn’t even want to do it. I just sat on the floor, in the dark space in between the rooms, and cried”

He kissed her forehead. 

“I am sorry” she said, still sobbing.

“You don’t have to apologize” he replied. “If anyone is to do so, it should be me. My words were unfortunate and tactless. Even worse; they didn’t reflect my feelings or what I wanted to tell you”

Marcia said nothing. Loghain grasped a handkerchief from the nightstand and gave it to her. She used it, but still kept silent.

“Sometimes I am scared. I know it is irrational. I know that you haven’t done anything to make me feel that way. But sometimes, the insecurities get the best of me. I look at myself, and then I see these men. I see Cyril’s youth, and charm, and power. I see how well you get with him and Gaspard and I feel thankful for you; but at the same time I feel insecure. I am exactly what Lorryn said I was. I’ve gone the Traitor Teyrn to the Traitor Warden... Then I look at you and I cannot help but think that you deserve more. I don’t want you to throw away your youth and your life acting on a misplaced sense of duty towards me. You are free to choose whatever life you want; you don’t owe me anything. Still, I want you by my side, and I thank the Maker that you want that as well. I know I am to keep you as long as you’ll have me, at any cost. But then, again, after all that’s occurred, I cannot help to question my own worth. I feel like I have failed you time and again these last few months and for some reason now I fear that I will keep on doing so. I just want you to be safe and content, but I have come believe that all I can give you is the exact opposite. Everything I touch, I destroy”

“I had no idea that you felt that way, or that you were such a fool” she said. “I am free to choose. I have always been. Nothing’s there to stop me if I wanted to _have more_. But I don’t really feel that way. What is having more exactly? It isn’t your fault. The circumstances are just shitty. We will make things better, and I am sure that you will feel differently then. And yes, you are an old, ugly fool but you are my old, ugly fool. I told you before: I have stopped searching for the bigger prize because that’s you. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone, not even for an Emperor”

“I’m sorry. I am sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I doubt” he whispered, holding back tears. “I don’t want to be like that. I just want us to be the way we were, before all this began”

“If you want, I can stop the games with Cyril”

“It is not about that” he said softly “I want to give you a good life. And I seem to fail to do that, not even a regular life. If I mentioned Cyril before is because I can’t help but thinking that he can give you what I cannot”

She caressed his hair.

“Give me? How very chivalrous. Do you also come to the rescue riding a griffon, with your hair braided like the Hero of River Dane? You seem to forget that everything we achieved we did together. It is not your burden to carry alone. It has never been. Don’t give yourself that much importance”

Loghain chuckled and kissed her hand. 

“I am sorry for being so mopey”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret” she giggled.

They just hugged in silence, for a while.

“By the way, there weren’t griffons at River Dane, nor at any point of the Rebellion” he said.

“What? _Really_? Now that’s heartbreaking. Childhood ruined" she chuckled.

Loghain smiled. He felt much better now.


	21. The orangerie, and the first steps of The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To beard or not to beard.  
> Also, bribes

The next morning, when they met Cyril, he seemed horrified by Loghain’s clean shave. 

“Oh, sweet Maker…” he muttered.

“What’s wrong? I always look like this” Loghain asked.

“And that's exactly the problem" Cyril replied. "When you came back from the West, you had that incipient beard and…” he interrupted himself. “I should have told you before. I need you to start grooming a beard”

“Are you serious?” 

“Very serious, I am afraid”

“That will take some time”

“We have time. And don’t worry. We are going to be busy while you grow it”

“Can you at least tell me why I need a beard?”

“Step by step, my friend. Remember that you swore you would do whatever I ask of you. Trust me. Every step you took will make sense when you take the next. We are in this together, the three of us. It is our fate. Just trust me”

Again with the trust.  


“So what’s our first step?” Marcia asked.  


“We are leaving for Val Royeaux tomorrow. We will discuss our next move there”

“I’ll miss this place” she lamented. 

“I won’t” Loghain said. 

“Why don’t we have dinner together at the glass pavilion, in the back gardens? We could dress finely and have delicacies. Good cheese for you, dear and the best wine. Let’s make the most out of this evening” Cyril said.

“I am sure you have plenty of engagements” Marcia replied. 

“Not at all. Just say yes. It will be fun”

Marcia turned to Loghain.

“Sure, why not?” he acceded.

“Splendid!”

When the sun set, Cyril knocked on their door and lead them to the glass pavilion. It was in the area near the hedge maze, in the fields surrounding Halamshiral, away from prying eyes. He opened the gate for them, and let them inside. 

“Welcome to Halamshiral’s orangerie. The largest in all Thedas ” 

It was larger than it looked. Inside, it felt pleasantly warm, and humid. There were countless citrus trees with their fruits ripe and bushes of lavender and other aromatic herbs and flowers which filled the air with their perfume. The lightning was dim, and private. They walked around that garden of wonders, until they found what Cyril had prepared for them. Among richly embroidered rugs, cushions, pillows and blankets, there was low table with silver trays of food and wine. Around that, there were small lanterns.

“I would ask of you to remove your shoes before stepping on the rugs”

They did, and sat together. 

“You didn’t just make all this. You had it prepared before asking us to come here” Marcia said.

“Guilty as charged” he admitted. 

They had dinner, talking of nothing in particular or of importance. They shared some stories and even some embarrassing memories. For desert, they had fresh tangerines, and they glass of spiced wine.

“So you think that arranging this lovely soirée is enough for your purpose?”

“What would be such purpose?” Cyril replied.

“Don’t be coy. You know exactly what you envisioned when you organized all this”

“Maybe you are right. Would it work?”

“That remains to be seen” she replied, mysterious. 

Loghain was reclining with his head on some pillows, looking up, to the transparent ceiling. The glass panel was so clean and so big that one could even stargaze from inside the pavilion. Marcia imitated him, and lied next to him. Cyril turned extinguished the flame of most of the lamps, and put the table and trays away. Then, he lied next to Marcia, so she was between Loghain and him. He didn’t do anything other than staring at the clear night sky. Loghain felt her hand on his. He saw her looking at him, like she was asking if everything was fine. He nodded. She moved closer, and made him hold her. It was a bit warm for that but he did it nonetheless. She closed her eyes, with her head resting on his torso and with a sweet smile whispered, so he could only hear it:

“Your hands smell of tangerines”

As he contemplated her, he caught Cyril’s gaze. He looked at Marcia, and then back at him, like asking for permission. Loghain silently shrugged and looked at her. He couldn’t give permission in her name. Cyril seemed to understand. 

“What’s going on?” she suddenly asked, opening her eyes. 

“Nothing” Loghain said softly.

She looked at Cyril, and then at Loghain, and smiled. 

“This is fine”

She shut her eyes once more. Loghain held her from behind, and Cyril took one of her hands, and moved a bit closer towards her. She didn’t move or say anything. Her breath was steady, and he realized that she was resting, asleep. 

They were back at Cyril’s estate in Val Royeaux. He had summoned them to his study, and when they went in, a woman was there.

“I believe I’ve made myself rather clear about my price”

“Of course”

“Then make it happen” she said, and left the room, not without turning her mask to gaze at Loghain and Marcia first.

“Is everything all right?” Marcia asked.

“Judge Lacroix is a very tough woman. That was just her usual business disposition”

“Dealing with a judge now?”

“Yes, and that brings me to our next step. She’s one of the most influential vocals in the current Judiciary, and I am afraid that we are going to need her favor”

“What for?”

“For now, the question is her price. She’s a very ambitious one, and doesn’t sell short” he sighed and sat behind the desk. “She wants to get back at our old friend Madame de Fer”

“Who’s Madame de Fer?” asked Loghain.

“Grand Enchanter Vivienne”

“And why would she want to get back at her?”

“Judge Lacroix has a lover in the Circle, one of Vivienne’s few rivals. Madame de Fer suffers no competitors. She framed her lover’s most esteemed apprentice for blood magic. Needless to say, that reflects quite poorly on his reputation and credibility”

“What happened to the apprentice?”

“Tranquility. Very distasteful. Coming from Vivienne, striking at the apprentice and not the master means that she intended it as a just warning sign”

“Just a warning sign? That’s horrendous” Marcia exclaimed.

“Indeed. Our dear judge’s lover is now in the spotlight, facing scrutiny and loosing allies fast. He never many to begin with, but now he’s bordering isolation. Of course, it is temporary. There’s nothing to incriminate him in any kind of forbidden practices. He’s not in any real danger, and Lacroix knows that. Still, she wants to make a move against Vivienne to remind her that her lover has powerful friends and it is not to be trifled with”

“And that’s when we come in”

“Exactly”

“So how do we move against her? You’re not… thinking about sending me to the Circle undercover, are you?” she said, carefully and with a pinch of fear in her voice.

“Don’t worry; I wasn’t planning on doing that”

“Oh, thank the Maker…” she exhaled.

“Have you ever wondered how she manages to stay so… untouched by time? That skin, that face? Well, it turns out that Vivienne is obsessed with practical applications of alchemy. She has developed a formula that allegedly slows the aging process. If you look at her, it would seem that it works, at least aesthetically”

“Is this going anywhere?” Loghain murmured.

“Yes. Have some patience. It was of public knowledge that the late Duke de Ghislain, her lover, was deadly ill, and she tried everything in her power to help him. She managed to keep him alive for longer than his life expectancy. She couldn’t prevent his death, but she perfected her formula nonetheless. The core ingredient is the heart of a snowy wyvern”

“I don’t like where this is going…” she said.

“She has been sending regular expeditions into the Exalted Plains, in hopes of acquiring that rare and precious ingredient. As I am told, there is no way to tell apart the heart of a snowy-wyvern and the heart of a normal wyvern, but only the first makes the mixture work. The other turns the potion into poison”

“Let me guess, we are going to the Exalted Plains, hunt some regular wyverns and give them to her, letting her believe that they are snowy-wyvern hearts” Loghain said.

“Yes and no” Cyril replied. “You don’t need to go to the Exalted Plains. There are plenty of wyverns in the forests and mountains surrounding my vacation villa, Chateau Haine, in the Free Marches. Usually the hunting parties take place during late summer or early autumn, but we will have to make an exception”

“Are you going to host a great hunt then?”

“No, that would attract too much attention. We are going to Chateau Haine. It is not unusual for me to spend time there as I please, so if we don’t bring too many people with us, it wouldn’t raise suspicions. We can hunt the wyverns ourselves. We don’t need a troupe of lesser noblemen and servants to get it done”

“And how exactly are we going to give them to Vivienne?”

“The mercenaries she hired are, unluckily for her, well acquainted with Judge Lacroix. They are going to make the easiest payday of their lives”

“But what if Vivienne doesn’t drink the potion? What if she poisons someone innocent?”

“Marcia, anyone she would award such a gift wouldn’t be innocent . Besides, It shouldn’t be immediately lethal- nobody has to die. It will be just a big scare. It is intended as a warning. The judge is not a criminal, she doesn’t deal in death”

“Last time I checked poisoning is a crime” Loghain said.

Cyril smiled.

“But Vivienne would be the one doing that, my friend”  


“I can’t say I like her much, but I cannot say that I like this either” Marcia said. “Still, I guess there’s no other way we can secure Lacroix’s favor?”

“No, she’s quite adamant about it”

“Well then… I guess we have all done stranger things, at some point” 


	22. Wyvern hunt

Chateau Haine was located in the western slopes of the Vinmark Mountains. It was an ancient fortress, designed to be nearly impenetrable. The austere walls and floors were made of sturdy, thick grey stone. Loghain had expected richer decorations, maybe something really extravagant to counter the grim and somber architecture, but it wasn’t the case. There were tapestries and carpets, and the usual hunting trophies, paintings and statues decorated the halls and foyers, but nothing was over the top. The sconces and chandeliers were made of cast iron; and the furniture, of dark wood. Cyril explained that it was used as a sanctuary during the Fourth Blight.

“The Grey Wardens made a stand here, hosting thousands of refugees in the tunnels and caverns underneath the castle. They built them from the stone. Did I mention that there’s a lake there as well? Warden Garahel’s sister, Warden Isseya, made it. Its water is fresh and pure” he said. Then he saw Marcia’s eyes glowing with excitement “As tempting as it may be, please do not enter these caverns alone. They are a dangerous labyrinth. I don’t even quite trust myself there. Remember that we are not here on an adventure”

“That’s too bad” Marcia said.

They followed Cyril upstairs. 

“Here we are. That’s your chambers. They used to be mine, when I was only a Lord. Now of course, I enjoy the master bedroom, which is there” he pointed, to a wooden door at the other side of the hallway. “Just in case you would need anything, you know where to find me”

“Good to know” she agreed. 

“Still, I would have a good night’s rest. Tomorrow we hunt together”

Loghain couldn’t contain his surprise. 

“You are joining us?” 

“Of course I am. I for one know the grounds and how to lure a wyvern. Besides, I am not completely useless” he said smirking, and winked at him. “Oh, before I forget. I apologize in advance for the cold. This is an old, freezing castle, impossible to warm in winter, but it has its charms. There are extra furs on the bed, and some logs for the fireplace. That should help you through the night”

“I am sure we will be fine” he told him. 

After they entered their chambers, Loghain closed the door behind him. Marcia looked around, curious to see if she could find anything that would tell anything about Cyril’s past. Nothing too personal remained. There were some volumes in the bookcase, and a beautifully detailed figurine of a griffon. A wide map of southern Thedas hanged on one of the walls, and some minor maps of Orlais and the lands of Montfort, immediately under it. The bed had four posts and curtains, and it was made of the same dark wood as the rest of the furniture. 

They soon saw that Cyril was right. As soon as they stopped moving and changed into nightwear, the cold crept in. No matter how many furs he threw at her, Marcia’s feet felt like ice all night long. 

The next morning, they left for the hunting grounds, deep in the forest. The woods were breathtaking, filled with large pine trees. To the east lied a beautiful lake and they stopped to contemplate it. Cyril was leading the way, dressed in medium armor, carried a crossbow and a blade. Marcia and Loghain were wearing full battle regalia.

“I am not planning on getting close enough to need the sword” Cyril said, when he caught Loghain looking at the melee weapon, with a hint of worry in his eyes. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared”

“So you mean we are the ones to get in front of it”

“That’s exactly what I mean, yes” he chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, Loghain Mac Tir”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Loghain exclaimed. “What’s a wyvern compared to the foulest of darkspawn abominations or Orlesian generals? I used to have both for breakfast”

“Well, I for one feel respect for these beasts” Marcia said. “Stop acting like they aren’t dangerous. That’s exactly the way fools get killed, and even some great men as well”

Loghain knew that she meant Morton, and knew that she wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of hunting wyverns, so he didn’t jest further.

“You are right” Cyril conceded. “We should be careful”

Cyril turned out to be a good tracker. It was a bit strange, seeing him like that, in the wilderness of the mountains. Still, Loghain remembered what Marcia told him: his family was famous for hosting the most important wyvern hunting event in Southern Thedas. It only made sense that, as head of the Montforts, his skills were unmatched in that area of expertise. After a reconnaissance of the hunting grounds, he told them that there must be several of them. 

“We are going to lure one of them right here, in this clearing. If it goes well, we can hunt some more at other places. Tell me when you are ready”

“Do it” Marcia said. 

Cyril placed the bait, and they prepared for the coming fight. They heard the clamor of the beast’s steps running through the woods, but didn’t see it just yet. There was a moment of silence and then, the wyvern emerged, majestic and deadly. Marcia, as usual, summoned her barriers and the spirit blade, ready for battle. Loghain led the charge, keeping the beast’s attention and protecting himself with the shield. Cyril, with nimble movements, attacked from one of the flanks. 

“Go to the other flank!” Loghain ordered Marcia. “I can hardly protect myself from the venom here. Move!”

She vanished for a few seconds and emerged where he had told her, dealing a blow with her spirit blade to one of the wyvern’s extremities in the process. Cyril was firing bolts as quickly as he could, but the steel-like scales protected it from harm. Meanwhile, the beast, with its incessant assault, staggered Loghain and left him defenseless; then raised one of its claws to strike at him.

“No!” Marcia cried. 

The next thing Loghain saw was the fatal claw frozen. He heard a crushing noise, as Marcia shattered the spell. The wyvern plunged to the ground, momentarily out of balance. Loghain got back on his feet once more, assuming a wary stance for when the wyvern would charge again. It proved unnecessary. A perfectly shot bolt sank in its neck. The beast shrieked in pain, but was not done yet. It tried to fight back, but another bold hit it, again. Marcia didn’t stay idle either. She casted that cloak spell and vanished. This time, she emerged right under it, cut through its stomach and rolled out of danger before the beast tumbled to the ground. It was over. 

Marcia ran to Loghain and checked if he was poisoned. He assured her that he was fine. 

“Well fought” Cyril said. 

“You were not so bad yourself” he replied. 

Cyril launched a fire signal for his men to take care of the beast. He said that they will make sure to retrieve the heart, as well as some other valuable resources, like the wyvern’s leather. 

“Nothing should be left to waste”

They caught their breaths for a while, enjoying the scenery. Cyril and Loghain started to incite each other into healthy competition. Marcia rolled her eyes at them. Loghain knew that she thought it was childish, but he couldn’t help himself. After the rest, they moved to another area, and repeated the operation. The second wyvern was smaller, and easier to defeat. They kept on tracking, luring and killing wyverns until they were exhausted. They hunted a total of four. Marcia had started to show her slight limping, so they headed back to the chateau. It was twilight when they crossed the gates. They went to bed early, after a warm dinner.

The next day, Loghain woke up feeling colder than expected. When he looked out the narrow window, he saw why. A thick layer of snow covered everything the eyes could see. It must had accumulated during the night, really fast. 

“Maker’s breath” he muttered. 

“What happened?” Marcia asked, under the furs.

“It has snowed. A lot”

She jumped off the bed and looked through the window. 

“Oh boy! Quickly, get dressed” she said, full of joy. “I want to play with the snow” 

Once ready, they left the room. Marcia ran through the halls, and Loghain tried to keep up. At some point, they met Cyril. 

“Where are you going that fast? Is there a wyvern in your bedroom?”

“We are going to play in the snow, obviously” Marcia said. “Come with us”

“I am afraid I have to send some ravens. You go on ahead and have fun. Maybe I’ll join later”

Once in the courtyard, Loghain noticed that the snow was up to his knees. It was difficult to move, and wondered what Marcia had in mind when a soft snowball hit him in the head. 

“We should see if you retain some of your ranger skills. I bet you can’t even fire where you look anymore” she taunted him, and threw a harder ball to his chest while he was busy cleaning the remnants from the previous one from his head.

“You’ll regret it” he said, and launched an attack that hit her on an arm.

Soon, she built a fort to protect herself from his icy missiles. He did the same, and they took cover and attacked each other. Marcia was relentless and merciless. At some point Cyril appeared on the courtyard, and Marcia hit him in the face with a big but soft ball, and then again, in the stomach. She laughed and hid behind her perfectly designed fort, and not only kept them at bay, but also managed to keep landing shots. Cyril joined Loghain, and whispered:

“We can take her if we work together. If we fight apart, she will keep on humbling us”

“What about the spoils of battle? There can only be one victor”

“Why? Sharing can be very gratifying”

“You think so, huh?” Loghain murmured. “Well, let’s see how that works”

She was not expecting them to team up against her, and the element of surprise gave them the edge they needed to evict her from her privileged position. Once they took her position, the fight was easier. Loghain noted that she had reinforced her fort with a bit of magic, and that explained how well it had held. What a cheat, he thought. He ran after her, and made her trip with a leg. She stumbled but did not fall, and Loghain kept her on her feet, still, with a strong grip. Then Cyril approached, smirking.

“My dear, this is only fair retribution” he said, as he fed her a snowball.

Loghain found their teamwork utterly satisfying. 

“Fine, fine, you win. But two against one isn’t a fair fight” she moaned. 

“You only say that because you didn’t think of teaming up” Loghain said, letting her loose and cleaning the icy bits away from her face. 

Judging from the look in her eyes, she was about to retaliate when it started to snow again. They went back inside. After changing into dry clothes, they joined Cyril in the main hall, and warmed their hands at the fire.

“This weather is going to delay us for a while”

“Is that a problem?” Marcia asked.

“No. Think of this as a little winter holiday. We have supplies and firewood in abundance. You may even have the chance to exert you revenge on us for our victory today” he suggested, with a wink.

Loghain agreed. Rather quickly.

“What’s with you two today?” she asked, once they were alone.   


It was friendship, mostly. Probably. Oh Maker, have mercy on my soul, Loghain thought.


	23. Privileged information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Plan is revealed

The events precipitated since their return to Val Royeaux. First, the mercenaries delivered the hearts to Vivienne, as planned. A few days later, a rumor spread that Grand Cleric Marcelline de Ghislain, Vivienne’s friend and one of the most influential voices at the College of Grand Clerics, had fallen terribly ill. Her affliction would have surely killed her if not for divine providence, the gossip went. Cyril couldn’t hold his laughter. 

“I expect Judge Lacroix will be pleased with that. I bet that creates a rift between Vivienne and the Ghislains”

“What about her lover? Will he be safe?”

“He’s left the Circle to join the College of Enchanters formed by ex-Inquisition mages. I wise choice, if you ask me” 

Judge Lacroix was indeed, beside herself, and fulfilled the end of her bargain, or so they were told. Soon after, Cyril summoned them to his chambers and showed them two urns. 

“What’s that?” asked Marcia.

“These are your burial urns, for your ashes” he said, calmly “Do you like them?”

He had to be kidding.

“Counting on our deaths?” Loghain said.

“Counting? Not at all. You are already dead. Congratulations!”

“That might require a little bit of explaining” Marcia murmured. 

“Judge Lacroix has just signed and sent your death certificates. The Oakes are dead, and you are free from Lorryn. I will send him my messengers with a certified copy and the urns”

“Make sure to pack some handkerchiefs, I am sure he will be devastated” Marcia giggled.

“But that means that we cannot go back home!” Loghain exclaimed. “We are destitute; we have no place in the world now”

Cyril smiled.

“You must think about the possibilities before you, not about burnt bridges. Now tell me, is there anything in your farm that you want to retrieve? My men can get it for you”

Marcia shook her head. Loghain knew that all of any value to her, she had carried with her when she came to Val Royeaux.

“We didn’t have a life of luxury nor possessed many things” Loghain started. “But there is something that I would like to have back. It is something very important, something I hid well. If you get it back, I will be in your debt”

Cyril’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. 

“Do tell”

“It’s a sword” he said, reluctantly.

“Must be a very pretty sword for you to be willing to indebt yourself to me”

“It has sentimental value” 

Cyril raised an eyebrow.

“My, my, sentimental value… Now you definitely have to tell me more”

Loghain sighed. He knew that Cyril will keep pushing until he knew what it was, and he knew that trying to conceal it would be pointless. Sooner or later, he would know anyway. 

“It is Maric’s sword”

Silence filled the room, and he felt Marcia taking his hand.

“I understand” Cyril said, nodding. “Don’t worry. I’ll have it back”

“I will make a map marking the cache. If your men as much as scratch it, I’ll burn them alive” he added.

“Fair enough” Cyril replied, with a smile.

“So… We are free, just like that?” Marcia murmured. “Who are we now? What is going to happen to us?”

“Marcia, you should enjoy the certainty of this moment: you are free. Stop worrying about what’s next. Aren’t you glad you are not bound to that monster anymore? Aren’t you grateful?”

“I... guess?" she replied.  


“Then show me your gratitude by having faith in me” Cyril said.

“I do. I just wish to know more”

“I get it; you are impatient. Just trust me when I tell you that we are getting there”

“Aren’t you afraid that we might disappear, now that we are free, as you say?” Loghain asked.

“No, you wouldn’t do that. You swore to see this through, and I know that you will honor that oath”

Loghain frowned, unconvinced. 

“It would seem that we have little choice, for right now we have nothing, not even an identity. Arguably, you hold now absolute power over our lives”

Cyril looked at him in the eyes, and with a smile, asked:

“Does that make you feel uncomfortable, Loghain?”

“No, but don’t think for a moment that I don’t notice you pulling our strings. You are not as subtle as you’d like to believe”

“I’ve never hid it. I told you I have my own agenda, but that doesn’t mean it is incompatible with improving your circumstances. Arguably, they have already improved, and this is just the beginning”

“So you keep saying, but all we do is your bidding!” he exclaimed.

“We are working _together_!” Cyril emphasized. 

Marcia stood up and intervened to scold them both.

“Maker’s breath! Stop arguing you two. You are both right” she claimed. She turned to Loghain “Cyril has not given us any reason not to trust him after all he’s done for us. We knew this would take time when we started it” then she turned to Cyril “You are secretive and shady, and it’s your own fault that sometimes that attitude gets us anxious and even paranoid about your motives, even if we know better than to give in to those fears. Now you are going to stop fighting like children before this turns into a real quarrel” 

Loghain was grateful someone could act as the voice of reason, and that that someone was Marcia. He didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking, and was glad for her interference. Cyril seemed to take it well too. 

“You are the cornerstone” Loghain told her, once they were alone in their room.   


“What?”   


“You are the cornerstone of our covenant, the one key that keeps us together”

“That’s too much responsibility” she said. “Besides, I am not the only one that gets Cyril’s attention”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”

“Sure you do. You must have noticed. He likes you too, even if he acts only on me. I don’t think he expects you to correspond”

Loghain had never contemplated that possibility, and his cheeks reddened a bit.

“And he would be correct. It is very flattering; but as friendly as I am with him, I only have eyes for you” he told her, as he went to bed. 

“Just don’t start acting weird around him now” she said, as she changed clothes. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

Marcia turned off all the lights and joined him. She complained in jest about his beard being short and scratchy when he kissed her goodnight. He didn’t like it either, and fell asleep wondering why Cyril was so persistent that he grew it. 

The next evening, Cyril summoned them to his bedroom. There was something on the bed, covered by a piece of drapery. 

“I have been thinking about your words” he said. “I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t need to keep everything from you. I want no secrets between us. Well, at least not that kind of secrets” he added, with a wink.

He took off the drapery to show a portrait of a stern-looking man. Marcia gasped, and Loghain blinked.

“Why would you have commissioned a portrait of _me_? Of me with a beard, of all things” he asked. 

“You think I would do that?” Cyril smirked. “That man isn’t you, Loghain. He just looks quite like you. In truth, the similarities probably weren’t so striking, but that particular style of the artist, that didn’t contemplate too many details, certainly brings out a great resemblance”

Loghain took a closer look at the canvas. 

“You hold the core features. The cheekbones, the nose, the cold-ice eyes and that severe demeanor” Cyril said, behind him. 

“And you are making me grow a beard”

“So you become his living image” Marcia murmured. “But the painting is old. He cannot be him. Wait, you haven’t told us who that man is, or was”

“He was Baron Lafaille. Long story short, he was the head of a minor house, and also the last. After his death, there was no one to claim his title or lands; or at least nobody wanted to do it. Then Count Lorryn, after a thorough investigation into his family tree, found a lost, common branch. Of course, his claim is not very strong; it was based on marriage and diluted after generations. But what if a true descendant was to be found? Someone with a claim based on blood”

“You mean I will pose as his heir?”

“Yes, all the documents are ready”

“You will have to explain this more satisfactorily” Loghain said. “Start by explaining why no one has bothered to claim that title”

“That particular title comes with the dominion over some lands in the Nahashin Marshes. It is not much. In fact, his family was so austere that the tale goes they lived more like commoners than like nobles. Now, if you know anything about the marshes, you’ll know that they are a volcanic, volatile and forsaken place. There are no major cities, no businesses, just the marshland and some villages that struggle to get by in such environment. The value of the lands and title is not worth the trouble and paperwork needed to claim them”

“But they must hold some value to you”

“Remember I told you I was interested in some resources? It turns out that the marshes hold many surprises. One survey by an Inquisition scout suggests that untouched deposits of silverite lay in that area, waiting. The report was among many others that the Inquisitor chose to ignore. That information is not public, of course. I had the opportunity to access it when preparing for the Exalted Council. It was like finding a gem among a lake of mud. It has been my plan to exploit that privileged information ever since”

That explained much. Loghain remembered that Maric had an armor set made of silverite. When he was a Warden, his blade was also made of it, and it cut through the darkspawn like nothing else. Of course, it had other applications, but it was used to craft the finest and most expensive arms and armors. In the middle of a war with Tevinter, and with a conflict against the Qunari on the horizon, having the control of new deposits would surely yield a great benefit to their holder.

“But why do you need to put someone there? Can’t you just... do it yourself?”

“It is not that simple. The use of that kind of privileged information will be seen as an abuse. I have a righteous reputation to maintain. No, it is better if someone that claimed the land and title found out about it by the Maker’s providence”

“Someone indebted to you enough as to bestow it upon you”

“It wouldn’t be like you would be handing it to me. Imagine for a second that your claim is heard and accepted. The lands will still be yours, but you will give me the exclusive use of the deposits. I will worry about the capital and the means, and you, in turn, will receive periodic sums of gold as payment for the lease. The exact amount can be negotiated after the excavations are done”

“You paint a pretty picture, but the claim must be accepted”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Judge Lacroix and her contacts have certified your lineage and your new identity”

“But it still has to go through the Council of Heralds, right?” Marcia asked. “You said that the claim, if made, was going to be contentious” 

“Indeed. For the higher nobility, it is better that the land is left unclaimed. The common folk of the area had been governing themselves peacefully for decades, and they don’t annoy anyone. But as soon as a new Baron or Baroness is appointed, the Game starts; and it can only benefit one of the biggest houses. One more minor lord means one more vassal to just one of us. The stalemate is a more desirable outcome for most of the houses”

“Must they become vassals?” Loghain asked.

“There’s nothing worse than a rival’s vassal, and that is a minor lord with airs of grandeur going his own way. It is not desirable for anyone, least of all for the lord in question”

“So this Baron was vassal to whom, exactly?”

“House de Ghislain. Duke Laurent de Ghislain will naturally oppose anyone that wouldn’t kneel to him. I know that he plans to put forward a distant relative of the Baron, if the event that a claim was made by anyone else. Of course, he doesn’t care about it because he has no idea what that backwater marshland holds, so he thinks that’s not worth the effort to start it. But if it were started, he will fight even if he knows that he will lose. Call it poorly managed pride”

Loghain walked around the room, suddenly anxious.

“For someone that’s about to be raised to nobility, you’re taking it bad” Cyril said, visibly confused.

“That’s because this isn’t my first time” he replied, with a dry laughter.

He was born a son of a farmer, then raised to Teryn, the highest Fereldan title except for royalty; then lost it all and became a Warden; then became a farmer… and now he was going to be a noble, again? He wasn’t sure that he wanted that at all. He had never felt like he belonged to nobility, and the rest of them had surely known how to make him feel unwelcome. He had endured many years of purer nobles looking down on him in Ferelden; but he persevered for Anora, for Maric, for his beloved homeland. If that happened back at home, he preferred not to think about how he would fare there. He would have suffered all his misfortunes and twice for Ferelden but for Orlais? He wasn’t certain. Then he looked at Marcia. She was very quiet; probably lost in her thoughts, scheming and worrying as well. He had wanted an opportunity to have their lives back, and now he had it. Maybe it wasn’t the opportunity he was hoping for, but he knew that it was the only one he was going to get. He sighed. He would do it for her, not for anything else.

Marcia spoke, her voice troubled.

“You never thought of asking him if he wanted it?”

“It was the only way out, and you swore to see my alternative done, whatever I asked of you. Given the circumstances, I believe that this plan is more than you could have ever hoped for”

“But he should’ve had a say!” she cried.

“It’s all right, Marcia” Loghain said.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can say no; you have nothing to prove. It is your life”

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t only about his life.

“Don’t worry. I want this” he said, softly.

He sounded very convincing, and Marcia seemed satisfied. She stayed as she was; with her head on his lap and he kept passing his fingers through her hair. 

“You didn’t even ask where you fit in all this nor worried about your own situation. Aren’t you curious at all?” Cyril asked Marcia.  


“I am well aware that there are still unanswered questions and that you haven’t gone into detail” she replied. “But right now I want to hear no more of this”


	24. The Outlaw Bearded Beast

Loghain woke up stirred by Marcia’s movements. She had been twisting and turning. He looked around, and noted that it was early, before dawn. 

“Maker’s breath, what is it?” he mumbled

“I’m sorry, I just can’t sleep anymore” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you, though”

“Well, you certainly did” Loghain said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I just have so many questions that I can’t shake off my mind…”

"Just try to get some sleep. We will ask Cyril first thing tomorrow"

"I have a bad feeling about all this..."

“I knew you would come around, but I didn’t imagine it would keep you restless” Cyril said, observing her. Indeed, she looked just as someone who didn't get proper sleep. “What troubles you?" 

“There’s a first obvious question. What’s the story for Loghain? Who is he going to be? Also, I am sure you noticed just how very Fereldan he is, and he will always be. Wouldn’t that be a problem? You surely cannot make him throw away that, it is consubstantial to very his essence. I mean, you wouldn’t, right?”

The way she worried for his well-being was certainly moving.   


“Yes, Loghain’s _Fereldeness_ is one of his capital charms, and indeed, it cannot be masked or hid. He is Fereldan”

“And what would be his connection to the Baron, exactly? You said the line ended with him”

“Baron Lafaille didn’t have a legitimate offspring, but it wouldn’t be strange for a man of his station to have… other kind of offspring”

“So I am going to be a bastard. I am so very thrilled” Loghain said, dryly. “Tell me you didn’t chose a name that sounds silly”

“Armand”

Loghain repeated it in his mind. Armand. It wasn’t an awful name; it actually had a nice ring to it.

“Well I suppose you could’ve chosen worse. But why do I have an Orlesian name?”

“Your mother was an Orlesian serving girl that, when pregnant, sought her fortune and the favor of some relatives in Ferelden. You were born and raised there, ignorant about her past or your origins. You lived as a commoner, and became a proficient hunter in the south of the country. At some point your mother called you to her deathbed, but she took her secret to her grave. That is very important; it shows that she was of a decent sort, that she wasn’t looking to take advantage of your blood. Anyway, years later, you found yourself visiting the humble house where you grew up, maybe moved by some sort of nostalgia. It was then when you found a hidden cache, between the wooden boards of the floor: some mementos from her youth. When you asked your relatives about it, they told you her story. Ever since, you’ve worked towards one end: claiming your rightful place as your father’s heir”

Loghain said nothing for a while, trying to assimilate all that.

“You go too much to the theater” Marcia chuckled. 

“What’s more important, will they buy it?” 

“It is not something uncommon. Sadly, those stories happen every day” Cyril replied, and kissed her hand. “Are you content now?”

“A bit more than before” she nodded."But not quite there yet"

“Just ask" Cyril said.  


“All you’ve told us is about Loghain. What about me?”

Cyril sighed, and gazed at her with sympathy. 

“I suppose I was only delaying the inevitable”

She opened her eyes wide.

“You are scaring me”

“First tell me what your expectations were”

“Is it too much to ask that Armand has a wife?” she ventured.

“I am afraid so. The Oakes die and a new couple rises to nobility just afterwards? It would be too much of a coincidence. There’s only so much coincidence and irregularities one can feed to the Court. No, I am afraid that you cannot be seen together in public for a while. Besides, a bachelor Baron would be much better accepted than a married one. Think of all the landless lesser nobles fighting for his hand. Ah, he will be a complete success”

Loghain frowned.

“But I am not a bachelor”

“Officially, you are”

Fuck _officially_.

“Then… what will happen to me?” 

Her voice trembled, and Loghain knew that she was about to cry. 

“Well…”

Cyril seemed to be measuring his words. Loghain was harsh.

“Answer her question already!”

“You are not part of his life. As I said, you cannot be seen together. He has to play his part to perfection, and that includes satisfying the other noblewomen’s attentions”

“What do you mean?”

“The usual courting, negotiations and proposals. Don’t worry, he doesn’t have to wed any of these women nor give them anything else than a bit of attention in return; he just has to play with all that potentiality for a while. You are not to interfere, because…”

“Because I don’t exist” she exhaled, and a tear ran down her cheek. 

“It will only be temporary, while he’s here in Val Royeaux. Once he moves to the Nahashin Marches, things will change for the better. And the fact that you cannot see each other in public doesn’t mean that you won’t be safe here. It is just a grand game of masquerade”

“Yes, I know it’s just…”

“You don’t want to be left behind or kept out, I know” Cyril said. “On my honor, that won’t happen”

Loghain held her. 

“I won’t let anyone keep you away from me. You know that” he reassured her.

She nodded, and didn’t let go of him.

The claim was filed, and Laurent the Ghislain made his move against them, but to no effort. The only thing that he achieved was for the process to be more tedious. After a few weeks of debates at the Council of Heralds, allegations and proofs, he was recognized as Baron Armand Lafaille. It all happened too fast and too soon. When Loghain noticed, it was the time for his introduction to the nobility in Val Royeaux. He was nervous, very nervous. Marcia was helping him getting ready. She put him in front of the mirror and made him look at his own reflection.

“You have more worth in the tip your little finger than any of these nobles”

He was grateful for her words of encouragement.

“I still don’t like this stupid beard” he muttered, scratching it. It had grown thicker and longer, and was cut in a very Orlesian fashion.

“Oh, you look like the Outlaw Bearded Beast”

“Sure that’s helpful because?”

“Look at you, closely”

He did.

“So fierce, so ferocious and stern, such wild strength; it is magnetic” she whispered in his ear, alluringly “That will sparkle their interest, not motivated by reality, but by their imagination. It will appeal to their darkest secret desires. They will find you sensational, just as I do”

Loghain laughed and kissed her.

“Do you remember all of your dance moves?” she asked, as she finished fixing his silken gloves and cravat.

She and Cyril had been grooming him, preparing him for his introduction to society; and that included dancing lessons. Of course, they both enjoyed mentoring him a bit too much.

“Of course I do. I also know which fork to use, in case you were wondering as well”

“Aw, charming” she said. “If you don’t dirty your pretty cravat with gravy, you can use on me, later” 

“You certainly know how to inspire my good manners at the table” he smirked. He caressed her lips, and pushed his fingers inside her mouth for her to suck. “Will you wait up for me?”

“Yes. Now, go”

He found the gathering extremely tedious. It was just another masquerade. Seen one, seen all of them, he thought; although he was amused by the attention some of the women showed him. Exactly as Marcia said, they seemed quite taken with his “wild and rough Fereldan character”. He indulged them, as Cyril had advised. He even acceded to dance with some of them, much to the delight of the guests. He also noticed, as expected, that many of the nobles didn’t like him. He knew exactly who they were because they were the ones excessively polite with him. Painted bastards, he thought. At least the food was decent. But he had better in Ferelden. Hmpf.  


At some point of the soirée, he managed to escape the main hall for a while. He needed fresh air, and went to the garden. He breathed for a moment, and went back inside. Before entering the main hall, Cyril came to him and made him accompany him to a secluded corridor. 

“You are doing well. Also, brilliant move working the ferocious Fereldan angle. You drive them crazy” he said. “Just hang on a little bit longer. I want to rub you on Duke Laurent’s face. I hear he has just arrived”

Duke Laurent de Ghislain was very cordial and very affected with him. He congratulated him for his victory, and told him that he was looking forward to the future. He wasn’t the only one doing that. He was approached by representatives of several families, and it looked like every single one of them wanted to bribe him. Once back at home, in an empty hallway, Cyril couldn’t hold it.

“He said he’s looking forward to the future. After all the allegations he made against you at the Council of Heralds! How dares he! Damn that double-crossing snake. He’s going to try to buy you off”

“We still have a deal”

“Yes, yes we do” he said. “I hope that you don’t forget that now that your circumstances have improved”

Loghain turned to him, pushed him to the wall and kept him there with a firm grip on his shoulders. He gave him his coldest, most severe look.

“My circumstances must include Marcia”

“I am doing my best”

“You won’t take any advantage”

Deep down, Loghain had the irrational fear that Cyril would try to have Marcia for himself. Of course, he kept telling himself that a Duke wouldn’t want anything to do with an apostate like her, even if she was of noble birth. Of course, he would never marry her, but there were other ways to keep her. He couldn’t help but doubt his motives. Many Orlesians loved that kind of stories; and if someone could pull that off, that someone was Cyril de Montfort. What if his plans were to unite him in a political marriage with another noble and make Marcia remain his lover? That would make her miserable. What if Cyril saw her misery as an opportunity to fully seduce her and claim her just for himself, making her his mistress? The very thought sickened him, and it was not a possibility to rule out. He was terrified he would steal her from under his nose. When he looked at him again, he found his own hands pressing Cyril's collar. Almost... choking him.  


“I would never interfere” Cyril gasped. 

“Good. Don’t try my patience” he snarled, slowly and threatening.

Cyril didn’t seem upset by that treatment; even as he was, he blushed and grinned. 

“There you are” he said, pleased and almost cheerful.

Loghain let him go, and he immediately regretted his behavior. It was stupid. He intended it a show of strength, but feared that it could be interpreted as a just sign of jealousy, even of weakness. It was unworthy of him.

“I shouldn’t have done that” he said, as some sort of apology.

“Don’t feel bad now. Many women and some men back at the party would have given anything for being manhandled by you in such a way” 

Cyril bid him good night and left for his chambers in rather good spirits. When Loghain entered their bedroom, he found Marcia asleep on an armchair in front of the fireplace. A book had slipped her hand and fell down to the floor. He put it back in its place, and then carried her to bed. She regained consciousness momentarily, and begged him to tell her all about the party, but he promised that he would do it in the morning. She complained, but not for long. Her eyes soon closed again, and she fell into a deep, peaceful slumber. He observed her. No, she wouldn’t fall for any shady scheme as the one that haunted his thoughts, he told himself. 


End file.
